Shadow's Code
by Olo Eopia03
Summary: Shem Baker. He's the son of Athena, and his talent? Deduction. While silently awaiting for a new mystery in Camp Half-Blood, the detective is confronted with one that is more mysterious than any other. It's his job to know what you do not know. But there's someone he wants to find. Someone he wants to kill. And so it's his turn, to tell you his own story.
1. Chapter 1

**Hi. As a greeting to you all who are reading this, I just want to say thank you for taking the time to check out my story ;)  
This takes place about maybe 40 to 50 years after the famous Titan War, and my previous stories are strongly related to this one. **

**If you are interested in knowing more, I suggest you read my other two stories. Thank you :)  
Good luck.  
**

**-Olo Eopia**

**Shadow's Code**

* * *

**~ Prologue ~**

* * *

_Death. The final wake up call._

The irony of the statement amused the boy who lay prostrated on the cold, stony floor. He didn't need to strain his vision to see the pool of vermillion red blood spreading slowly across the ground. He felt the blood leave the very wounds of his skin, and his body chilled with every moment that passed.

The thunder crackled, and the cacophony resonated throughout the dark room. It was a damp, moist environment, only because of the storm that was raging outside.

But that was all he could see. The high ceiling felt endless.

"Why do you just _keep_ losing?" Another voice interrupted. It was Him. Whether He can be described as a mere man with a lust for blood, or a man who yearned uncontrollably for the grasp of power, the boy did not know. What the boy did know, though, was that He was someone worth being afraid of.

The boy wasn't in a state of being reposed, but rather a chill continuously ran down his spine. He was losing, and he knew it. A mat of cold sweat plastered his forehead. A knife lay scattered a few feet away from him. It was his own knife, with his own blood. He didn't care where _she _was now.

Probably dead.

The boy's vision began to blur.

"You . . . You were always the one," The boy said, his voice cracked with pain. His side was burning as though someone had recently splashed a bucket full of acid on it. He clutched at the long gash on his left arm. Nevertheless, he gave the man a look filled with as much hatred he could muster.

He abhorred this man. The man who had earned an undying trust that had lasted for so many years, and broke it easily because of one simple choice that had been caused by his own greed.

The man who murdered his family

"It _did_ always take you a long while to crack such a simple code, unlike my best friend," The man said dismissively. "You're tenderness was your very flaw. If you had joined me earlier, you would've been much more powerful, Shem."

"No," The boy spat. "You killed _him. _How could you?"

Shem could taste the blood in his mouth, serving as the sign of an endless struggle that had finally surrendered to defeat and misfortune.

Gray eyes met gray. It was a little unsettling how the man's eyes sparkled brighter than anything Shem had ever seen.

The older boy sighed, then waved his left hand in annoyance.

"You've become strong, but you would probably never be able to surpass me or the one you've come here to avenge." In the man's other hand, the long metal spear gleamed viciously. The boy on the floor closed his eyes as he looked away, trying to concentrate. He needed to think. To believe. "Farewell, brave knight."

* * *

**- Chapter 1 ~ The Brave Knight -**

* * *

_Fifteen days prior. _

**[xxx]**

"You look pretty tired compared to _me_, Mr. Holmes." The girl said, grinning.

"Shut up."

He looked at himself in the mirror and saw a slightly pale face, dotted with stunning gray eyes that looked like a storm had arrived. When there was a flicker of excitement or passion in them, his eyes always sparkled with delight. His pale, long fingers rubbed his high cheekbones, immersing his face in water. He hadn't looked at himself in a long while. When he took off the deerstalker hat, it revealed the disheveled light brown hair that stuck out in all peculiar directions. It would be a pain to place them back all in order. He looked down at his orange T-shirt and the old jeans he'd been wearing.

_Strange, _He thought. _To have never left this place for good. There were always the quests, but I'd always come back._

Was he tired or just insanely bored at the moment?

He saw the water trail down his face until it dropped from his chin, and his eyes latched onto the beaded necklace around his neck.

Ten beads. Longer than anyone who'd been here. The second person with the most beads was a little girl who'd also arrived at Camp Half-Blood at around the same age. But she was the daughter of Poseidon.

He didn't want to die. Not yet. There was something he needed to do.

He didn't look like most of his siblings, but that didn't mean every kid in his cabin had to have blonde hair and blue eyes.

His name was Shem Baker, and one of the many children of Athena. But nearly everyone loved to associate him with variations of the name _Sherlock. _

His fastidious deduction skills were the best in camp. When something mysterious happened, they'd always go to Shem for help. There were some things that _he _saw that many others didn't.

Shem looked back at the girl who was standing in the doorway. Petra Ashling was shorter than him by two-thirds of a foot. Just like many of the campers, she also wore a ratty orange shirt in addition to her white denim shorts. Petra smiled as she walked into the cabin. Typically, that wouldn't be allowed, but Shem didn't stop her, even when he was the only one in his cabin at this time. For a while, her dark brown hair fell in waves around her shoulders, but now it was beginning to straighten. She was about to turn fourteen soon.

"You're only seventeen, Shem," Petra said. "It's summer, too. And good morning by the way."

"Okay, Pet," Shem said. "Welcome to Cabin six. Did you notice that your brusque entrance is unwanted here?"

"Nice cabin."

"Brilliant, Pet," Shem said. "What an astute statement, too."

Petra ignored him and stared at the cluster of beds moved to one side of the room, as if no one cared enough for sleep. The floors were filled with stacks of blueprints and diagrams. Old war maps plastered what little space there was left on the walls. The shelves were filled with thousands of books. A New York Yankees Cap hung in the corner of the room.

"And your laptop's cool too. What's the name of the girl who'd kept it? Sorry . . ."

"Annabeth Chase," Shem said as he walked away from the sink in the bathroom. He couldn't blame her. Petra was a new camper, and the only daughter of Morpheus.

Annabeth Chase, the one who had allowed the rest of the Athena kids, particularly Shem, to use the high tech computer. Wherever she may be, not many people knew.

_I don't think she's dead, _Shem thought. _Just simply . . . Not here. _

The Daedalus laptop sat on Shem's bed, it's delta sign glowing despite the light streaming through the windows. Next to it was an old tattered book by Aristotle. Shem had been studying it for years now. Reading it and rereading it, wondering why it had appeared with him the day he'd first arrived at Camp Half-Blood.

"So, I'm awake." Petra said slowly, sitting down on Shem's bed and leafing perfunctorily through the book. A look of amusement crossed her face as she closed the book. "The first page's torn off."

"Obviously."

Shem he took a towel from the side to dry his face.

Shem took another glance at her.

_Petra Ashling. _

_Judging by her face, _Shem thought. _Eyes slightly dull. _

_Her shirt and clothes hastily put on. _

_Wake up time: approximately 5 o'clock in the evening. _

_Napkin crammed into left pocket strongly suggests that she'd grabbed something to eat on the way here, and was in a hurry. _

_Flip flops: reluctant to wear sneakers; concludes in unwillingness to train today. _

_Anomaly of slight smudge on her fingers results in a meeting with Raymond Stone, child of Hephaestus who holds an obsession with starting caustic experiments, in which he probably asked her to hold something for him, such as a highly explosive hammer due to the pattern smudged onto fingers. _

_Visitation may also be a strong conjecture of her worry for her friend Elli Fugino, who had just recently gone on a quest away from camp. Petra's visit to Raymond must suggest that she wanted to inquire to him about it. _

_Smudge can only originate from a type of ore that one of the children of Hephaestus invented. Material? Unclassified among the periodic table of elements. _

_Small watch on right hand wrist. Digits located on surface do not match time in America, but that of a location in Europe. _

_Shows that she was predictably wearing that watch for the first time since a small vacation to France, because of its unique brand name and material that cannot be found in the United States. _

_Why was the watch bought? Petra Ashling belongs to a single mother. The two of them live snuggly in an apartment, but for the first time, her mother was not going to see her on her birthday in the summer. In consequence, mother buys her a gorgeous gift, in which Petra is so scared of wearing the watch due to its cost until maybe building up the nerve to wear it today. _

_Probability of conjectures being completely accurate? Ninety-four percent. Completely inaccurate? Two percent. Mixture of correct and incorrect possibilities? Four percent. _

Shem looked away and exhaled in slight annoyance. He told Petra none of this, because surely she would've been a little agitated as well. Normally, the people around him would've looked at him with a slight awe and ask him how it was done, but Petra was different. At first, she would look slightly amused, and then later on, she would just stare at Shem and ask if he actually liked seeing all of those or not. And even later, she would tell him to stop nosing around.

Petra looked at him.

"It's happening again, isn't it," Petra said. The way that she looked at him always had a feeling of sadness in it. It wasn't a feeling of real sympathy. It was just the way she was.

_She knew_, Shem thought. _People wouldn't see it even when I'm silently calculating, but she knew. She always knew. _

"My blessing and curse_,_"Shem said.

In some ways, he'd find those observations helpful. But as Petra also saw it, he sometimes found them quite aggravating. _The dichotomy between the two concepts of seeing and the will to not see is extraordinary. _

Shem sighed. Petra was different. Petra wasthe daughter of _Morpheus_. On top of that, she had more dreams than an average demigod to haunt her.

She still looked tired.

He was the very first who had decided to befriend her ever since she'd come to Camp Half-Blood. People had looked down on her because she was the daughter of a god who had sided with the enemy during the Titan War, but Shem couldn't help but see that there was a gift that she possessed.

And there was.

Her dreams held truth in them, and she had a vision more extensive than anyone he'd ever met. Petra could _see and feel _everything. If someone had blindfolded her tightly, she'd still be able to run around the camp without inflicting any injuries upon herself. Climbing the lava wall with her eyes closed. She could do it.

"No training for you today, Pet," Shem said. Petra's eyes lit up. Shem walked over and sat beside her on the bed.

"Okay, but I also wanted to talk to you," Petra said quietly. Shem looked at her. "I saw a boy in one of my dreams."

"And?" Shem asked. It had always been the two of them from the start. And gradually, people had started to get close to Petra because she wasn't anything like her father. After the claiming, that was the only sign of contact the father and daughter had ever made.

"He had jet black hair," Petra recalled. Shem looked into her eyes. He'd gotten used to their surprisingly dark color that could be considered as black. Her eyes were almost empty, despite the flicker of life that showed on her face. "And he looked about twelve. But that's it."

"That's it?" Shem said, staring. It wasn't like her to remember so little. "Then why do you care?"

"I don't know," Petra said. "It just keeps bothering me."

"Obviously," He said humorously. He didn't want to see her looking so sad. Shem smiled as he stood up to take his black trench coat from the bed post. Petra followed him out the cabin. He looked at her again, and by her expression, he could tell something was wrong. "What else did you want to tell me?"

Petra looked up, a little startled and interrupted from her train of thought.

"Oh . . . It's nothing."

_Why lie, when you know that I can see through them, Pet? _Shem wondered. _But okay. _

"Sure."

Before the two of them parted Petra stopped.

"Why no training today?" Petra asked.

Only she would know. The mystery behind Shem's past was only known to her.

_Yes, why no training today, Shem? _Shem asked himself. _Contemplating about the incident that had happened ten years ago? To avenge a murder?_

"Ennui," Shem said simply. Petra saw through the lie right away, but she made no move to pester any further. Today just seemed like the right day to tell lies. "_Boredom_."

**[xxx]**

Shem surveyed the camp's surroundings as he sat down in front of the lake. A few days ago, two other demigods, Allen Stradwood and Elli Fugino, had left on a quest to retrieve a special child. Smaller details about the journey were kept confidential only between Chiron and a selected few.

Elli had used to come to this lake every day. It was her way of staying at "home."

Now that she was gone temporarily, Shem came here regularly to think.

_Ten years, _Shem thought as he watched the leaves fall to the ground and onto the surface of the water. _It's been a while. _

He remembered that earlier that day he'd bumped into Janelle when he was walking out of the Big House.

"_Sorry, Shem," Janelle apologized as she picked up the books that had fallen from her arms. Janelle Iaso was the second in command of the Apollo Cabin. Her medical abilities were better than most doctors in a high class hospital. Without her, so many demigods would've lost their lives a long time ago. Chiron had almost wished she had been there during the Titan War to help. As of now, she was the temporary leader of her cabin, because Allen Stradwood had gone on The Quest._

_Shem picked up one of the books, noticing that it was Les Miserables. _

_He scanned at all the other books and she seemed to be holding scrolls and manuscripts of old plays and musicals._

"_I never knew you had an interest in them, Janelle," Shem said. To Shem, Janelle was a soft and gentle figure, acting more mature than most fourteen year olds. _

"_I get bored after just studying medicine all the time," Janelle said keenly. Her sapphire eyes gleamed in the light. Her brown hair had been tied hastily into a ponytail, and her fair skin looked smooth in the light. Another scroll almost tumbled out of her arms, but Shem caught it before it fell to the ground. It was a scroll on cryptography._

"_Encryptions," Shem said, his interest perking up. Shem was known for being completely obsessed with codes and programming._

"_Oh," Janelle said, sounding slightly embarrassed. "Only the basics. I'm really fond of Caesar's code." _

"_The simplest codes are always one of the most well known," Shem agreed. "They're always useful too, in case you need to send an urgent message." _

Shem threw a pebble toward the lake, watching it skip across the water. When the pebble no longer resurfaced, his eyes searched the ground and his fingers grasped for another small rock. Unwillingly, another memory flashed through his head.

He was just six years old.

"_You're talented," The boy said. "And you know it." _

_Shem looked up at the older boy. The boy sitting next to Shem looked about eleven years old, and his dark gray eyes scintillated brilliantly - unlike Shem's, whose light gray eyes gleamed rarely. _

_This was the boy whom Shem had consistently looked up to. _

"_But you're always better, Miro," Shem said. "Daddy loves you more." _

_After that, the two of them didn't do anything to break the silence. Miro didn't say anything, because if he did, the two of them would know that he was lying. _

_A few minutes later, Miro smirked. _

_"Who cares about dad?" Miro said, shrugging. "We're brothers, Shem, and we stick together."_

_The lies that he told._

Shem stretched out on the grass, staring at the sky. From his pocket, his fingers wrapped around a small figurine, and he held it up to the sun. It was a chess piece, and one of his favorites. The black knight.

It was strange to be a demigod, but even stranger to have a pair of demigod siblings. Miro Baker. His only older brother.

_And now? _Shem thought._ He's dead._

"Shem!" Shem sat up to see Petra running toward him. Her face was pale, with a frantic look on her face. Shem got to his feet and took Petra by the shoulders.

"What's wrong, Pet?"

"There's a girl," Petra gasped as the two of them walked quickly from the lake. Petra geared Shem toward Thalia's Pine. A small crowd of people were being dispersed by Chiron. "Everyone's been looking for you, Sherlock. No one knows who she is, where she's from, or anything. That's why they want you."

"No satyr?"

"None. She's alone and unconscious," Petra said gravely. "And wounded."

_Wounded. _Shem looked at Petra. When he looked at her, he knew that the situation on the hill was a bad one. Their pace quickened significantly.

"Will she be alright?" Petra nodded. Janelle must be there right now. Suddenly, Petra stopped, and her hand briefly took hold of his hand to stop him, just before she let go. Shem stopped as well, and looked into her eyes in slight confusion. For the first time, he'd never seen her look so worried.

"I need to tell you," Petra said, her voice trembling slightly. At once, Shem knew it had to do with the dream she'd had. "It was a message to you from my dad."

_Her dad? _Shem thought, his heart stopping. His fists clenched slowly. _Her dad never once communicated with her, and constantly ignored her. And the one time he finally spoke to her, she didn't matter at all to him? Why? _

"That bast-" Shem growled.

"Never mind about me," Petra interrupted angrily. Petra looked up indignantly for a moment, and her expression was replace with a look of somberness.

She was strong.

"Sorry." Shem said, knowing that she didn't want anyone to look after her. She was very independent.

"He told me to tell you," Petra continued. "_Your journey has begun, Shem Baker. Go ahead. Kill him._"


	2. Chapter 2: The First Mistake

**Hi again :) I'm back and now we've got the ball rolling at least. You've probably noticed, but I wanted to let you know that Shem holds a very striking resemblance to Sherlock Holmes, and he has the same skills. There will be some references, so please do not hold me to plagiarism, as those were intentional. I really wish I could insert images here and change the fonts of each section, but I guess FanFiction doesn't allow me to do that. **

**Just try to imagine an upside down triangle, with a horizontal line crossing the upper half. Like an eject sign, but upside down :D Don't worry you'll see later.**

**I'll be posting another soon, so thank you for reading :) **

**Thank you to VirtualViola03 for reviewing! You made my day :) **

**Good luck. To Shem I mean.**

**-Olo Eopia03**

* * *

**- Chapter Two – The First Mistake**

* * *

_Disillusionment had the temporary effect of amusing even the most brilliant people, but in the end, the disappointment resulting from the discovery of the hidden truth will not always be as good as the intended trick had believed to be. But is it the same for all plot twisting schemes? Or can it just be as real as what is really intended? _

Before Shem and Petra had arrived at the clearing, the crowd had already started to disperse. Many of the demigods were muttering to themselves and whispering to each other, with looks of fear, dread, worry, caution, and even contempt plastered onto their faces.

_What, is it that bad already? _Shem thought, spying out Janelle and another demigod bringing someone toward the infirmary. They were carrying a girl.

Shem began to walk in that direction. It must've been so urgent that Janelle wanted to rush the girl to a quieter area.

"Holmes!" A voice interrupted. Shem stopped in his tracks and turned around, feeling slightly annoyed. A tall boy was walking toward him.

_Of all the people destined to meet me in the world, _Shem thought. _One of them had to be Ken Fletcher._

Shem shouldn't have come toward this part of the crowd. He looked to his left, and saw Petra was already far away from him, talking to the other demigods. He should've followed her instead.

"What?" Shem said impatiently. Ken grinned back at him. His sandy blonde hair, which had once been spiky, had straightened out and now almost covered his eyes. "Is there really any point to which you need to draw my attention?"

Ken Fletcher was tall for his age, since he was just fourteen years old, but luckily for Shem, he was taller than Ken by a couple of inches.

Everyone knew that if you looked at Ken's face just once, you wouldn't be able to take him seriously ever again. Shem remembered Chiron saying that Ken was almost just as equivalent to both of the Stoll brothers combined, which wasn't very good news for the whole Camp. The silly antics and wild pranks made him a true child of Hermes. Ken's medium length hair had a thin and layered effect to it. Despite the hair covering most of his forehead, Shem could still see the upturned eyebrows. His bright blue eyes gleamed mischievously back, and his elfish ears stuck out from his hair.

One look and a brief analysis of Ken had already begun in Shem's eyes.

"Where was I today?" Ken asked excitedly.

"Sword arena," Shem said dismissively. Ken's expression, which had been briefly replaced with an infuriated glare, looked back at him again with a sly expression. "Obviously."

"How?" Ken said enthusiastically. Shem glared at him. "I wiped all my sweat and everything. Tell me! How did you do that? That was excellent!"

"Elementary."

"Tell me how you do it," Ken said adamantly.

_How much more can you annoy me, Fletcher? _Shem shook his head.

"Your hair, your shirt," Shem said curtly. "Make an effort to try harder too, Kenneth. You have a slight odor on you, too."

Ken's face turned blank.

"Awe, come on-"

"You weren't even training in the arena today, were you?" Shem went on. "Stop eating those blueberry muffins there, Ken, or you'll incite a harpy problem or something just as morbid. And Raymond's quite annoyed at you for stealing his spear."

Shem moved closer to the clearing just to get away from the boy. Normally, if two people had a conversation similar to what they'd had, those people would become long term enemies. But Shem could feel Ken still grinning back at him. That Hermes kid was still fun to be around with.

Shem adjusted the collar of his dark trench coat. The two demigods that had carried the girl to the Big House had already disappeared.

"Shem," Shem turned around to see Chiron. Chiron was a centaur and the Director of Camp Half-Blood. Today, the middle-aged man was without an enchanted wheelchair, and his lower half revealed the posture of a majestic white stallion. The slight crinkles around the edges of his intense brown eyes revealed years of worry and laughter, but most importantly, many lifetimes of experience. The centaur's face also revealed prominent and sharp features, and a scruffy brown beard covered less than half of his face.

_Look of worry is not only resulted from the incident today. Can also possibly result from the quest Allen and Elli have embarked on? _

_Noting brief absence yesterday after dinner. Recent trip to Olympus? Topic of discussion? Kronos. Obviously. _

_Right handed: The way the collar is adjusted - folds are more prominent on the right side. _

_Taller than any man. _

_No wheelchair: Surprised by the sudden turn of events today._

_Bow and arrows slung on the back: Taught an earlier class of archery in the morning._

_Fragments of annoyed expression still lingering on his face suggests an encounter with a slight problem. An unwanted meeting with the Party Ponies, perhaps? Only a wild guess, but choices such as nymph problems, Mr. D., Kenneth Fletcher, messy rooms, kidnapping, and all mishaps can be eliminated easily. _

_Probability of answers being accurate: ninety-eight percent. Incorrect: two percent. Mixture: zero percent. _

Chiron had become a man whom Shem had respected very much, knowing that if anyone needed to provide someone with wisdom, it would be Chiron.

"I'll go to the Big House," Shem said. Chiron nodded, but a strange look never left his face.

"Be careful," Chiron said. "I feel that there's something peculiar about her, Shem."

Shem nodded.

"Of course, Chiron," Shem said. "Let me run over the principal steps. You will know that we will approach her with an absolutely blank mind, which is always an advantage. No theories. We are simply there to observe and to draw inferences from our observations."

"Then go," Chiron chuckled, and the wrinkles from his face had vanished for a slight moment. "Mr. Holmes."

Shem smiled. He wished Chiron would always stay free from worry.

**[xxx]**

"Let her wake up on her own, Shem," Janelle insisted as she stood outside the door. A dim yellow light was flickering from inside the room. Shem hadn't been allowed to go into the room until night time because Janelle wouldn't let him. "She's exhausted, but she'll wake up soon."

"You know I won't disturb her," Shem said. Janelle nodded slightly, and then left him.

Shem peered through the door and entered into the room. No one else was inside but a girl lying soundly on the only bed in the private infirmary room. Janelle had been quick in treating her wounds well.

The girl's face was captivating. Her curly dirty blonde hair fell past her shoulders. Her pearly skin seemed to glow in the light, highlighting her smooth features. The girl's elfish ears stuck out slightly from her hair. She was a little pale, though, and her face was on the brink of contorting with worry.

_She has a pretty face, _Shem thought.

Shem stared at her . . . But . . . What?

_?_

Shem looked down at her clothes and the blanket that covered half her body. He couldn't tell where her clothes came from. Was it handmade? For the first time, he wasn't even sure.

_?_

_Right handed? Left handed? Age? _

_?_

_What's happening? _Shem thought. _I don't know anything about her. _

Shem glanced again at her face.

_?_

Suddenly, the girl let out a small whimper. Shem stood up, unable to figure out why he couldn't deduce _anything. _Shem paced the room silently, taking off his brown cap.

_Deduction, _Shem thought, with a nervous feeling creeping up his chest. _Is an exact science. Deduction is undoubtedly always accurate . . ._

Shem looked around her neck and saw a small medallion hanging from a thin black string.

The _medallion? _Shem thought. _Oh my gods. It's _the _medallion._

Slowly reaching toward it, his fingers gradually wrapped around the silver pendant. Shem ran his fingers through the small engraving on the surface. It was a peculiar shape . . .

_I've seen that shape before, _Shem thought. It was a simple triangle that had been turned upside down, with a thin horizontal line running through the upper half of the symbol. _It's _that _symbol. _

That symbol.

_It's from Him. _Shem thought. But how? _It's not possible for it to be a coincidence. Did she know? Where did she come from?! _

Just as Shem let go of the pendant, the girl's eyes slowly fluttered open. Her eyes were like sparkling bright blue jewels staring up into the ceiling. Shem turned around immediately, knowing that the girl did not catch him staring at the pendant, but he could feel the atmosphere fill with tension as the girl reached up quickly to grasp the pendant.

"W-where am I?" The girl said. Shem turned around and saw that she was trembling. She looked older than Petra, but something about her confused Shem. It was the fact that no matter how long he took to observe her movements, her actions, and her appearance, he _still _couldn't see anything about her. Shem masked his face, not giving away any shock.

"I strongly believe that the most appealing question at the moment that should be inquired," Shem said boredly as he sat down on a chair next to the bed. "Is _why _you are here?"

"Who are you?" The girl said, struggling to sit up. Shem caught a glimpse of bandages wrapped around her waist. They should be changed soon, because blood was already starting to show. Shem winced at the large wound. The girl collapsed back down onto the bed, gasping.

"Stop exerting yourself," Shem said quietly.

"Who are you?" The girl repeated. Her voice was tinged with fear. Shem wanted to glare at her. "Tell me who you are."

Shem turned his steely gray eyes toward hers, and he could feel her shoulders and muscles tensing up. Her breathing had quickened quite significantly, but only Shem could hear it.

"My name is Shem Baker," Shem said, his words filling up the whole room although the volume of his voice was quiet. The words were clear, though. "It is my business to know what others do not."

The girl stared at him for a moment, and Shem felt as though she was looking at him in disbelief. Her expression had change so quickly, and for a second Shem thought the girl might actually know him. He didn't know why his heart stopped when she looked at him.

"W-where am I?" The girl asked again.

"I believe you're not allowed to know," Shem said. Could she be a spy? But how did she get here? She was even wounded, so would that not make her even more of a spy, or a spy who used the method of being hurt to get into Camp? For once, Shem felt as blind as everyone else when he looked at this girl.

"You can't tell me?" The girl insisted.

_Why can't I?_ Shem thought slowly. _What harm will she ever do? The look on her face only looks just as confused as mine. If anyone would get hurt because of her, let it be me. _

"Camp Half-Blood," Shem said. The girl sighed in relief. What was this girl feeling? "What happened to you?"

"My father told me to come here," the girl said. She'd just ignored Shem's question completely, but Shem decided to listen to her. "Hermes."

_She already knows. She knows who she is then. _

That was probably why she was so relieved. She wanted to get here because she knew it was safe for her.

"What attacked you?" Shem asked as he took off his jacket and hung it on the chair. At first the girl looked confused.

"Oh," She said, looking down at her waist. She seemed to hesitate. "Um . . . H-hellhound."

_I can't tell if she's lying, _Shem thought.

"What else do you know?" Shem asked.

"You're all demigods, right?" The girl asked. Shem nodded. "And the monsters-"

"Real," Shem said shortly. "All real."

The girl looked up at the ceiling.

"Why?" She asked. Shem looked at her. It's rare that people ask that kind of question. "Why are they all real?"

_I don't know, _Shem thought. _No one does. But it's the unfortunate life that we live in._

"What else do you know?"

"I know about Camp Half-Blood, the people here, and that sometimes demigods go on quests," The girl said. "Who's your dad?"

"I'm the son of Athena," Shem said coldly. Was she going to question him this much? "My father's dead."

"Oh, so you're an orphan," The girl said brightly. Shem glared at her, but she didn't seem to notice. "You must've been alone for so long, since I heard it's rare for demigods to have any siblings. Do you have any other family relations?"

"No."

"Then did your father die from illness?"

"No," Shem said, gritting his teeth. This girl kept talking, and while she was trying to find out so much about him, he was getting nothing out of her.

"Why, _how?_" The girl asked quickly, her eyes growing big. "Was he attacked by a monster? Or did he just die? Did he abandon you? Or was he _murdered_?"

Shem stood up, and the wooden chair scraped abruptly against the floor. As he snatched his jacket up from the chair, the girl sat up abruptly, wincing from the pain at her side.

"I'm leaving," Shem said curtly, folding up his jacket on his right hand.

"Hold on, sorry - wait!" The girl cried out as she lurched forward and grabbed his left arm. Her reaction and speed was so unexpected that Shem staggered backward as the girl's fingers accidentally latched onto his T-shirt.

The incident came by quick and fast. Shem looked down as the collar of his shirt slid down, revealing the long, dark scar that lined from the bottom of collar bone down past the shirt, through the chest. It was a scar weathered by age and blackened by the element, its broad size and ridges standing almost pale against Shem's skin.

It would be the scar that would betray the truth of what a deep and abhorrent wound it had been, and the lack of care it was given for all those years. It kept the truth and secret from ten years ago.

The girl stared with her mouth slightly open, shocked at what she'd done. The silence in the room was filled with an unwanted sense of intensity.

"Let. Go." Shem said. His voice was as hard as steel. The girl, with her hands shaking slightly, released the shirt from her grasp. Shem took a few steps backward as he straightened up and adjusted his shirt. No one knew about that scar. No one but Petra.

"I-I'm sorry," The girl said. "S-sorry."

Shem turned away from her and left the room without another word.

**[xxx]**

Shem sat cross legged on the edge of the top bunk with the Daedalus laptop on his lap. It was already late into the night, but almost all of the Athena kids were still buzzing about, rummaging through papers at their work desks, sketching on stacks of tracing paper, or drafting new buildings on paper to be inserted into the 3-D modeling machine. Only a few children had nodded off to sleep at their desks or on the floor, and even fewer children actually slept on the beds.

The Daedalus laptop was quite an interesting model. As time passes by, the computer itself morphs into the latest and newest version of one of the best laptops used today. The Daedalus laptop looked like any high tech device in today's world, except for the Greek Delta sign glowing in the middle of its sleek silver cover.

With his fingers, Shem swiped quietly across the screen pass all the previous windows he'd been using, including an online chess game, until he came across an article he'd been reading yesterday. It had nothing to do with him or his life, but it still struck to him as something important somehow.

_Mass Genocide Between Family Branches Erupt in Libya_

_Two years ago, on the evening of July 21, heavy fighting became the result of a political conflict between two family branches, leaving approximately two million people dead on the streets. It is important that we look back on this as one of the most tragic events during this time. _

_Two clans, known as the Toki Clan and the Rundu Tribe, were both infamously known for their unending rivalry, tracked since their early ancestry. While the Rundu Tribe was seen as the head clan, the Toki Clan, who turned out to be distant relations, came from a more minor and less populated side branch. The Rundu Tribe's superiority over the years was always constantly expressed proudly, discriminating the Toki. _

_Three years prior to the genocide, Europe had divided Libya into two regions: the Toki region and the Rundu region. Although less populated and less powerful, the Toki tribe were seen as the stronger half, with more skill and political sense to be able to govern a country. As a result, Europe handed the Toki branch family the power to rule both regions of Libya. This outraged the Rundu, and while the two clans continued to argue, more obstacles emerged as both clans actually struggled against the overall control and manipulation of Europe. _

_When Europe finally withdrew from Libya, the Rundu Clan immediately retook position, seizing power from the Toki region. Ever since, the Toki have been excluded from the government and important assembly meetings, until the ruler of Rundu, President Haimana, signed an Act that would allow the Toki Tribe back into the government. This Act allowed the Toki Tribe to once again take part in voting and meeting assemblies._

_Rundu extremists became outraged at the news as a result. It had always been their own preference to be able to orchestrate and display their own power. Despite the Act allowing the Toki Tribe to participate in government, tensions between the parties still worsened._

_Devastatingly, President Haimana was shockingly killed in a train accident shortly after the passage of the Act. Not only that, but the Toki have been known to hold a long time grudge against the Rundu ever since Europe released them. Using this as an excuse against the Toki - since it was possible that a native from the Toki region could've planned President Haimana's death - Rundu extremists formed a group known as the Akats, and a mass slaughter begins._

_In 96 days, at least two-thirds of the population had been killed due to the disastrous feud between the Rundu and the branched government clan, the Toki. _

_Why didn't the whole world step in to assuage the fighting? _

_Every nation had the choice, but others, including the United States, sat there idly and watched the massacre take place. We all look back on this day as one of the most fatal flaws that could've been prevented right away. The world should've stepped in, but instead, more than half of Libya's population lies dead. _

Shem closed the window.

_The stupidity of the government, the act of childishness between the clans, and the tragedy of so many deaths, _Shem thought. _Mortals. They're always so nosy, but when something tragic takes place, they ignore it completely._

Shem sighed, and suddenly remembered the symbol hanging around the girl's neck. He scanned the room until he found an automaton owl flying around the room near the bookshelves. Ever since the first model Raymond Stone had created from the Hephaestus Cabin, the Athena Cabin had requested one to look after their mini library.

"Miu," Shem whispered. Although his voice was soft, the tiny silver owl turned toward his direction and fluttered across the room.

Miu was a tiny owl, and unlike the first model the Hephaestus cabin had built, it wasn't as able to carry heavy things. Moreover, it was given a powerful memory and the ability to be able to find any book, no matter how obscure the title was. Everyone thought his name was cute too since it was named after the Muses of poetry and literature. The owl hooted softly as it landed and perched on top of Shem's computer. It looked like any other adorable Scops owl, just that every individual feather had been carefully crafted with the elements from the Hephaestus Cabin. Today, no one in the mortal world could make something as lively and as graceful as this creature.

"Hoo, Hoo!" Miu cheeped happily, focusing its orb eyes expectantly on Shem's face. It fluttered furiously for a few seconds to keep its balance on the computer. Shem smiled.

"You know the book," Shem said. "Can you grab it?"

"Hoo!"

The owl launched itself valiantly from the top of the computer and fluttered toward the farthest bookshelf. Shem watched it as it came back clumsily with the burden of the book in its claws. It seemed to droop a little from the weight as it jauntily moved toward the bed. In about a minute, Miu plopped back down onto the bed next to Shem, and Shem took the book into his hands.

"Thanks, Miu," Shem said, ruffling Miu's feathers.

"Hoo, Hoo!"

Shem looked back down at the cover of the book as Miu fluttered triumphantly away.

_Field Notes, _It read. _Property of Nicholas Baker. _

Shem's father had always been an inventive man. That's why he and mother fell for each other. Nicholas Baker studied everything, from neuroscience to environmental science. But whatever he wrote in this book was different . . .

It was the book that Shem would find his dad scribbling furiously into late at night, everyday. His father had always been in his study even until the morning at times. Shem opened the book and leafed through the pages like he'd always done, because this had been the last and only thing left by his dad. But the pages were blank.

His father had always been a secretive man as well.

Shem tried almost every method he knew. He looked through every page, checked the binding of the book, used invisible ink, banged it against any hard surface, spied for double pages that could be hidden, and even allowed the Hephaestus cabin to inspect it, but the book was just a blank. He even used the Daedalus laptop to do a full scan of the book, but there was no successful result.

Shem didn't even know how the book had gotten to Camp with him. For all he knew, the book had always sat on his father's desk, and had never left it. But no one in the family dared to open it. Until just that one time . . .

Shem reached the last page of the book, and the last thing that had been scribbled there was the only thing visible throughout the whole book. It was in pencil, clumsily sketched at one corner. It was small, but distinct.

The upside down triangle with the horizontal line crossing through gleamed at Shem, just like the glowing symbol on that girl's necklace had done too. Shem stared at the symbol. How were the two of them connected? No one knew of the book. No one knew of what had gone on in the Baker's household. Could it be the most random coincidence that the downward triangle - which was the image of Aristotle's ancient symbol for foundation or earth - happened to be just printed on both objects?

Who was she?

_Your journey has begun, Shem Baker, _Petra had said. Morpheus' ominous message had stayed imprinted in Shem's mind. _Go ahead. Kill him._

Shem thought hard for a long time, but he couldn't think of how the girl in the infirmary and the notebook would have a connection. There wasn't any evidence.

Shem looked around until his eyes lingered on the New York Yankees Cap hanging on the hook at the corner of the room. Why did Annabeth leave it there? She wasn't dead, and it was one of her most prized possessions. Why?

Shem pulled up an application on the computer called _TextWrite. _If Annabeth was going to come back, he might as well leave something. His spelling and writing was better than most demigods at this camp. Who knows, maybe one day if he kept browsing through this computer, he might stumble across something Annabeth had left behind too.

_Month of June _

_Entry #1_

_Once you come upon this message - if you keep reading - it is possible that you could be engulfed into a complex and dark tale. _

_It is already strange enough that a message had come from Morpheus, a minor god, about the events of my fate. Whether it will turn out beneficial for me or disadvantageous to the point where my life could be in danger, it is unknown. Whether my life at this point could be in someone else's hands, or I am in charge of murdering the person whom I've sought after for so long, it is also unknown. The mystery of my journey could begin at any moment, and it might be just as peculiar and strange as your sudden disappearance, Annabeth._

_Before I talk about myself, however, it is always helpful to inform you that Allen Stradwood and Elli Fugino have embarked on an important quest recently. It's probably as important as any quest you've ever gone on, and if not, more important. Where they are right now, no one knows. The details are to be kept confidential. _

_I speak to you only to leave a slight memoir of myself, and if someone were to find out my own fate, it might as well be you. We've crossed paths with each other only once, and you saw potential in me. But why I'm choosing to write this to you and not to someone closer, I sadly do not know. Unlike most things I've done, doing this just feels accurate enough for me to do. _

_I implore you to keep reading, because I know that I will keep writing to keep a log of the mysterious events that will take place soon. _

_Today had been a normal day until something out of the ordinary had shown itself through a dream. Petra Ashling, the daughter of Morpheus, had passed on a message to me . . ._

Shem wrote about everything had happened to him that day, of the message Petra had told him, the injured girl who appeared on top of the hill, and the girl's background. He talked about everything, from the most plain facts to his most absurd conjectures. He even wrote of the incident when his scar had been revealed in the infirmary room. He talked about the girl the most though, how her face had struck him, and of how he wasn't able to make out anything despite how hard he tried.

By the time Shem had closed the laptop, everyone in the Athena cabin had fallen asleep. The night lamps were still glowing, producing a dim light in the room. Shem lied down on the bed, even though it wasn't his. No one in Cabin Six really cared.

_What a peculiar girl, _Shem thought as he stared at the ceiling. He thought of the dirty blonde hair that framed her elegant face, and the peaceful expression that had been there when she was asleep, and afterward two sparkling blue jewels had looked up at Shem as the girl talked to him. She knew who she was. Only until his eyes started to close did he just realize something even more peculiar.

He didn't even know her name.


	3. Chapter 3: The Code Begins Here

**I apologize for the long wait. I've been in an intensive music camp lately and I just got back! I've been keeping track though, and I don't post a chapter no later than two weeks. Ish. But no worries :) The next one is _definitely _coming out soon. **

**Shem's habits mirror a lot of Mr. Holmes' own habits, and Maybe later in the story, you might see some characters that resemble others as well. Now to recap from the previous chapter: Who could that mysterious girl be? What did that medallion have to do with Shem's past? And why does he care so much that he had to write in a log to Annabeth in case he didn't come out of the end of the journey as the same person? _Would he stay the same? _Huh.**

**By the way, readers, the beginning might start out a biiit slow. It's because like all good authors, they take time to develop their worlds slowly until it looks as beautiful as anything they've ever created. Remember, it took J.K. Rowling ten pages of words that started with Q until she found the right word - Quidditch. ^^**

**VirtualViola03 - I thank you so much for following me and reading! :) I hope this chapter excites you. **

**Guest #1 - Shem DOES have quite a cold heart. But what made him that way? Or what made him so . . . secretive? ;) THanks for the review mate. **

**Guest #2 - Whether you are the same person as the first Guest or a different one, thank you so much for the review! :) I'm back on track now that I'm back home, and I hope you will continue to enjoy reading :) THANKS :D**

**And thanks peeps out there who followed, alerted, or all that amazing things u make me happy with with just clicking a button. **

**Review and Good Luck.**

**-Olo Eopia03**

* * *

**- Chapter 3 ~The Code Begins Here -**

* * *

_Secrecy always had the habit of becoming a controversial topic, showing its true value depending on the content of the secret, the selected group of people keeping the secret, and the motivation to maintain its secrecy. To some, secrecy was always an offensive matter . . . But couldn't secrecy be the element of all goodness? __**W**__ill the very quietness of its actions hold its own virtue? To be beautiful when all is unknown? __**E**__ven its beauty, though mysterious, can be protective in its own way. _

Shem looked around the surrounding areas of the dining pavilion cautiously until he was certain _she _wasn't there. His deerstalker hat had covered the light brown hair that was sticking out in all directions. He _did _attempt to brush it this morning. Slowly, Shem adjusted the collar of his coat as the other demigods around him walked around casually to get food.

_Alright, _Shem thought. _Disciplinarian out of range. Primary mission has been activated. _

Shem walked past the central fire in the middle of the pavilion toward the tables that served the food. Shem had already gotten a glass of apple juice, but what he had really been aiming to go after all this time was located near the desserts table.

Quickly, Shem took a bowl filled with four scoops of ice cream. Shem smiled.

Finally. He was alone.

"Sorry Shem, better luck next time." A voice said from behind him, and the bowl of ice cream suddenly disappeared. Shem whipped around.

_Her! _Shem thought agitatedly. _Why?!_

Petra held the bowl in one hand as she moved a little to the side to get a spoon. Today she was wearing a baby blue blouse and jeans. She grinned at him as she took a spoonful of ice cream.

"What-" Shem began angrily.

"Breaking your abstinence so soon?" Petra asked. She was provoking him like this, yet she was more than half a foot shorter than him. "Everyone knows about your addiction to ice cream, Mr. Holmes."

"It helps me concentrate." Shem said indignantly. "You don't understand the power of the human mind when it is in full concentration."

"But I understand that when you eat this and begin your chain of sugar rushes," Petra started. "They can't be stopped. Thank the gods you're not addicted to cocaine or something."

"Is he trying to eat some again?" Another voice called out. Raymond Stone carried a tray of food and passed by, laughing. Shem glared at him.

The son of Hephaestus grinned back. He was wearing a dirty white T-shirt and dark colored jeans. In some areas of his shirt there were holes burnt through or smudges of coal and dust. He must've come from Bunker Nine. One of the best in his generation, Raymond could make almost anything. He was already working on a project to provide faster and more high tech electronics than the modern mortal technology for demigods.

Stone, like Shem, is also seventeen, but he was taller, more tanned, and more muscular, while Shem had a more pale and lean body built. No one ever called him Ray. It was either Raymond, or Stone. There was only one person who could call him Ray, and that happened to be Elli Fugino, who was gone at the moment. Raymond had dark brown hair too, but it was darker and more tidy than Shem's own hair.

"Of course he would try to eat some," Petra said. "He always says he needs it."

"Oh, so you need ice cream more than some of the useless information you've been telling us about a few days ago?" Raymond asked.

"I didn't tell you _useless _information," Shem said. "I told you that useless information was not needed in anyone's life, and if not needed, can be thrown away."

"Yeah, sure, sure, Holmes," Raymond said, and he looked at Petra. "Did you know Shem doesn't know how many planets there are in the whole solar system?"

"What?" Petra asked incredulously. She stifled a giggle as she looked at Shem with innocent eyes. Shem glared back. "How?

"Because apparently it's _useless,_" Raymond said smugly. "And it's always fun to know that our little genius detective also doesn't know that all those planets rotated around a star called the _Sun._"

"I told you," Shem repeated. "I consider that a man's brain is originally similar to an empty attic, and so what? You must stock it with such furniture as you choose."

"And?" Raymond asked.

"A fool like _you,_" Shem said, looking at Stone. "takes in all the lumber of every sort, so that the knowledge which might be _useful_ gets crowded out, or at best gets jumbled up with a lot of the other things. He has difficulty in laying his hands on it."

"Hm," Petra said thoughtfully. "Then what would a smart person do?"

"He would be very careful indeed to choose what he takes into his brain," Shem said. "It is a mistake to think that the little room has elastic walls that can stretch to any extent. There always comes a time when for every addition of knowledge, you forget something that you knew before. So it is of the highest importance, therefore, not to have useless facts elbowing out the useful ones."

"Anyway," Petra murmured after zoning out for the slightest bit. "Relating back to the topic of ice cream, anyone would be able to guess the flavor of your ambrosia, Shem. Right, Stone?"

"Aw you just changed a most enjoyable subject, Pet," Raymond said disappointedly. Raymond walked by and picked up a bowl of ice cream for himself, and gestured goodbye as he walked away.

"Why would anyone care about my ambrosia flavor?" Shem said.

"How was your chat with the girl in the infirmary yesterday?" Petra asked suddenly. What a quick change of subject. "It's already dinner. You're not going to interrogate her some more today?"

_Pet always asked the right questions, _Shem thought. She was always insightful.

It'd only been yesterday since the strange girl had appeared on the hill of Camp Half-Blood. Shem didn't want to visit the infirmary that day because . . . he just wanted time to think. He didn't want to see her after that incident.

And he still didn't even know her name.

"She needed rest."

"She's okay, right?" Petra asked, with a slight tint of worry in her voice. "I heard about her condition from Janelle."

"She should be fine in a little bit," Shem said. He imagined her face again in the infirmary - the dirty blonde hair, pale skin, and sparkling blue eyes. "She's the daughter of Hermes."

_Why wasn't she the daughter of Aphrodite? _Shem thought, then suddenly shook his head vigorously. What was he seriously thinking about?

Petra didn't see the mass confusion that had taken place in his head, because she was too busy taking another spoonful of ice cream.

"Well, I best be gone, mate," Petra said, turning away with the ice cream bowl still in her hands. "No ice cream for you. Remember, I can _see _you even with my eyes closed."

"The next time we train, Pet," Shem said. "I will not go easy on you."

He saw the back of Petra's head nodded hastily as she waved her spoon and walked away.

**[xxx]**

The next day before noon, Shem had changed into a black shirt and black pants to go train by himself in the arena. It'd been a whole day since he'd seen that daughter of Hermes.

Shem stood at the of the sword arena, wrapping a roll of gauze on his right hand. He took one roll and layered it back and forth to form the usual knuckle pad that he would always do everyday. Mortals did this all the time before a boxing match, but Shem didn't think it was a stupid idea. It helped to protect the hands from unnecessary injury.

Shem felt his left hand wrap the gauze around the right one around three times as he did this absentmindedly. He couldn't help but feel his mind wander about something that was highly disturbing. Start around the wrist, go around the thumb, knuckles, do a criss cross over the back of the hand . . .

_It was late at night as Shem sat cross legged on the floor. In front of him were two books. _

_The one that had been written by Aristotle. The book wasn't thick, with a Morocco binding dyed dark green. It looked old, and the first time Shem had ever seen it, there was a layer of dust that had covered the pages. Shem had translated it easily from Greek to English in only a few days, but the content inside seemed almost useless. Two days ago when Petra had come into the cabin she'd noticed it while sitting on the bed and said that the last page had been ripped off. Who ripped it off? Why? And why was it in his possession?_

_The other book was bounded in dark brown leather. The log of field notes kept by Nicholas Baker. Nothing was written inside except for the very last page, which had contained that upside down triangle. _

_There were some connections, but very few. The Aristotelian symbol scribbled on that last page of Nicholas Baker's journal had been mentioned briefly in the first book as a symbol of foundation and the beginning. But why would that symbol be there? Or why would that symbol be at the _end _of the book rather than the beginning? _

_Both books had appeared with him at the same time when Shem had come to Camp Half-Blood. Both must have some sort of connection, yet he didn't know what it was. Not yet, anyway._

_Two books. One mystery. It almost felt unsolvable. _

"Hey, Baker!" A rough voice belligerently yelled from far away behind Shem. Shem didn't turn back as he finished wrapping the gauze around both hands. "What's a nutcase like you doing here?"

_Rough voice and loud, dragging footsteps: Indication of the presence of Zachary Sheen. _

_Sixteen years old. Son of Ares. _

_Height: Six feet, one inch._

Shem turned around to face Zack. His black hair had been recently changed into a crew cut, and long scars covered his face and arms. Anyone would be able to see that he'd gotten into a lot of fights in his life, and took pleasure in them.

Zack, like many of the children of Ares, was huge and muscular. He wore nothing but a pair of thin shorts and gray sneakers, and his muscles rippled underneath the dark tattoos that glimmered on his skin.

_No sign of exhaustion: suggests for the urge to fight. _

_Just a few minutes ago he'd gone back to his cabin, seeing the new clothes he was wearing and the refreshed look on his face. _

_Recently jogged through the mud, due to the careless skid marks on both shoes. _

_Looking for a fight? Probably. Chances of succeeding in brawl? Nil._

_Probability of choices accurate: 97 percent. Inaccurate: Three percent. _

"Can't you hear me?" Zack said a little louder this time. "Or does the nutcase have too much going on in his mind to not understand what I just said? What the Hades are ya doin'?"

"Pulmonary ventilation," Shem said quietly enough so Zack could hear. There was a slightly blank expression on Zack's face. Shem turned around for a moment to put the gauze down on the stand. He'd only said two very unique words that symbolized a terribly simple meaning. The words were not even complicated.

"Do nerds really like to be pushed around like a punching bag?" Zack smirked after recovering from his blank stare. His crooked teeth were a dull yellow, and its highly unsanitary condition always bothered to show itself whenever he sneered.

"I'm training." Shem said shortly. "I believe you should be a little cautious about what you say when you're speaking to someone whose skills in boxing match and if not, exceed yours."

The smirk on Zack's face vanished, because what Shem had said was true. If he wasn't a demigod who fought for his life every day of the year, Shem could even be an all-time boxing champion. As much as Zack was the son of Ares, Zack seemed to hate the fact that Shem, a son of Athena, could beat him.

"You're style looks so stupid," Zack taunted. "What's it called? A gentleman's way of fighting?"

"You've fought me before," Shem said boredly. "You don't want to end up lifeless again like last time."

No one except Petra knew or came close to perfecting Shem's fighting style. He used Bartitsu, a martial art form that had vanished for decades and had been revived in the twentieth century. It had been announced in England as the formation of a New Art of Self Defense. It always came in handy when Shem was in a precarious situation.

It combined boxing, wrestling, fencing, and another wide range of fighting styles. Sometimes Shem would improvise a little and invent some new moves. Only Petra knew this because she was the only person he would train at Camp Half-Blood.

Petra also knew a lot of things about Shem that many people didn't. Their close relationship had stemmed from quite a long story, and for some reason he knew that she was the right person to trust all the time.

So, in a way, Bartitsu was nowhere close to a gentleman's way of fighting. But when someone attacked you unexpectedly, you'd be ready no matter what the consequences were.

"Fight me," Zack said. He had a devilish look on his face. Shem looked around and saw the usual rack full of weapons in various areas of the room. A look of anger crossed Zack's face. "I said fight me! Are you scared?"

_Why did he always look for a fight? _Shem thought as he sighed, exasperated.

"Go, before you aggravate me any longer."

"You're just going to back down?"

"I am, unlike what you immaturely would've done."

Shem ignored Zack and walked away to get to the nearest obstacle course. If you wanted to become a fully trained demigod, it wasn't just all strength. It was speed, agility, and quick thinking. Shem saw a white handkerchief on the floor and picked it up. He didn't know why it was there, but it was a lucky sign.

Shem sighed as the loud footsteps behind him got faster and increased in fight was going to be short.

The moment when Shem had calculated that Zack was exactly four feet behind him, Shem whipped around and threw the handkerchief in Zack's face.

_First, disturb equilibrium of assailant. _

A confused look replaced the outraged expression on Zack's face, and a snarl escaped his lips as he wobbled in surprise.

_Next, surprise opponent before there is time to regain balance and use strength. _

Shem rushed forward and aimed a fist to the stomach, and Zack staggered backward as Shem's blow made contact. While stumbling backward, Zack had made the effort to punch around wildly as Shem dodged each useless blow.

Zack bellowed something inaudible as he almost ran into the nearest rack full of weaponry. With one swift motion, the son of Ares snatched up a battle axe from the weaponry and started swinging violently at Shem's chest.

Shem leaped backward just in time to avoid the blade from piercing through his skin, but the slash from the axe had made a cut through his shirt.

_What a cheater, _Shem thought as Zack laughed aloud. The battle axe was one of Zack's primary weapons, so it was already dangerous enough to fight him with one in his hands.

For a few seconds, Shem quickly avoided each attack until Shem was finally backed up to a wall. Zack smiled.

_If necessary, subject the joints of any parts of his body, whether it be neck, shoulder, elbow, wrist, back, knee, or any part that are anatomically and mechanically unable to resist. _

Shem lunged forward one last time and kicked upward as Zack lifted his axe. Shem's foot connected with Zack's elbow joint, and the axe cluttered to the floor as Zack howled in pain. Lastly, Shem aimed another round house kick to Zack's temple.

Shem stood there for a few seconds as Zack collapsed onto the ground, unconscious.

_Physical recovery: Two weeks. Mental recovery: Two months. Unfortunate chances of recovery at all: ninety eight percent. _

Maybe Shem should've kicked him a little harder. Shem walked away to continue training until he saw Petra standing in the doorway.

"Oh, good day, Pet," Shem said simply as he fixed up his black shirt. The only damage that had been done were the slash marks across his T-shirt. What a pity. "Did you have a good sleep?"

Shem didn't seem to take note of how shocked Petra's expression was. Either she'd come into the arena to train by herself, or she was looking for him.

"What-" Petra said. "Oh gods, Shem, what did you do?"

"He probably needs to be treated right away, Pet," Shem said absent mindedly as he walked back to the obstacle course. After a few seconds, Shem caught Petra staring at him. "Oh, he wanted to hit me first."

"Be glad I'm going tell Janelle that you used self defense.," Petra muttered as she took a few steps toward Shem, but away from Zack's limp body. "The girl from the infirmary. I came here because she's been asking for you, you know."

"Do you not know her name?" Shem said incredulously.

"I'm only someone who changes the water in the vase regularly in the infirmary room, or if anyone needs a fresh bed sheet," Petra said. As much as Petra also hated Zack, it looked like she was actually going to get a healer from the Apollo cabin to drag the bully to the infirmary. "Like Janelle, I leave the patients safe to express whatever they want."

"Then why do you tolerate an interrogator like me to come into the room to talk to her?" Shem said, grinning. He put on the trench coat he'd brought with him to the arena and walked toward the door.

"Do you think I can really stop you?" Petra sighed. Shem laughed. "Just go, Baker. She wants to see you."

"Sure thing, Pet."

**[xxx]**

Shem walked into the infirmary room for the second time and saw the girl lying in bed.

The medallion still hung there around her neck, gleaming a beautiful yet ominous jaded color. Shem almost wanted to take it from her and have it for himself. Didn't he have a right to look at it? To _own _it? It came from the past. _His _past.

_To be sick like this for some time, _Shem thought, staring at the girl. _There must be nothing to do here. _

The girl saw him, and she slowly sat up in her bed and looked at him with a calm and apologetic expression. Unlike the day before, she no longer had that frantic and confused look on her face. She looked more serious and less nosy.

"Hey," Shem said as he sat down on the chair next to the bed. The girl's stunning blue eyes looked shyly up at Shem.

"Hey," The girl said. When Shem looked at her, the girl's eyes immediately flickered and looked away. Suddenly she seemed too interested in the lamp on the bedside table. "I'm sorry."

"Can we just talk?"

"Yeah," The girl said immediately. "Of course."

"Who are you?" Shem asked. He still did not know anything about her. If only he knew. If only he could at least figure out how old she was, or where she came from, or what actions she would perform next. She looked so unpredictable. To Shem, she seemed to be _that woman. _"Your name?"

"Irene Vagler," The girl said. Shem rolled over the name in his mind. "But just call me Ira."

_Ira Vagler, _Shem thought as he glanced out the window. _Ira. What a strange name. _

"Start talking," Shem said. The girl stared at him for the slightest moment, and for the first time Shem felt conscious of why his hair was so messy, or what he was doing wearing a trench coat on a warm day.

"I'm an orphan," Ira began. "No siblings, no nothing. I ran away from the orphanage and . . ."

The girl trailed off into the silence. Shem waited for a few seconds, but she didn't say anything after that.

"And?"

"I . . ." Ira said, thinking. Shem looked into her face, and again, he saw nothing that he could decipher. Ira looked confused. "Huh. I don't remember."

_What? _Shem thought. _How can she not remember her life? At all? _

"How old are you?" Shem asked.

"I'm sixteen," Ira said. Ira squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, but when they opened, there was a stronger feeling of dejection in them. "But that's all I know. My name is Ira Vagler. I'm sixteen years old, and the daughter of Hermes. I'm an orphan, and I ran away from the orphanage."

She had a drop of honesty spoken in every word. Shem believed everything that she had said so strongly that it seemed impossible that she would fabricate such a lie.

_Maybe when she got attacked by the hellhound, _Shem thought. _Something happened to her memory. _

"You'll remember in time." Shem said. "You're still weak."

"Wait, but-" Ira said quietly. "I don't know why, but I came here to look for you."

Shem looked at her uneasily. He predicted that something like this would happen. His eyes glanced quickly at the medallion around her neck.

_Could that medallion connect her with someone I know? With Him?_

"Why?"

"When I woke up," Ira said. "I just knew I had to look for you. And when you came in I don't know why, but I was sure that you were the person I was looking for."

_What a strange premonition, _Shem thought. _What if she was a spy? She could be working for _Him. _What if she was lying this whole time now? Why are things still so murky?_

"Where did you get that," Shem said, glancing at the necklace. The girl looked down at her chest, and a look of sadness crossed her face.

"I-I don't know," Ira said apologetically. "I only remember it on my neck when I woke up in this room."

Shem ran a hand through his already messy hair. This was starting to go nowhere.

"How can you not remember?" Shem asked, feeling slightly agitated. Usually he wasn't so easily annoyed, but where she came from, that medallion around her neck, and mysterious aura she had around her could be the clue to why his childhood had become his living nightmare.

He'd waited ten years.

"I'm sorry!" The girl said again. "I just can't-"

"Are you keeping something from us?" Shem asked, feeling slightly vexed. "Because if you are, you should leave. No matter how injured you look or whatever clandestine or covert group you came from, I care more that the people of this Camp are safe."

"N-No I'm not!" Ira exclaimed. An expression of fear crossed her face. "I'm trying to tell you everything I know about myself, yet I don't know anything about you. I _only _know your name and who your mom is."

Shem closed his eyes for a moment and rested his back against the chair. No matter how much he hated to admit things, she was right. Her voice was very persuasive, and her words rang true. It was ironic that he was keeping secrets from her. It was hard to allow yourself to become so vulnerable in front of someone you barely knew.

"I'm sorry," Shem said after opening his eyes. Ten years had already gone by. Maybe he'd just have to wait some more. "I'm sorry that you're not able to tell me anything right now. But as for me, I still can't tell you a lot about myself. For me secrecy is the detriment of my own peace of mind and self, and I could still sustain my belief in privacy and be authentic and transparent at the same time."

"You're strange, aren't you," Ira said quietly, staring at Shem. To Shem, she looked so timid. "So you want me to trust you."

Shem nodded.

_I may be peculiar, _Shem thought. _But I've never met someone as strange as you, Ira. _

Ira sighed.

"Okay," Ira said. "I guess it'll be fair since I'm being treated here."

"Can I see it?" Shem asked.

"What?"

"The medallion," Shem said. The girl looked down at her necklace in surprise. "Can I hold it?"

The girl looked at him with hesitation, but finally brought her hands up to her neck and unclasped the necklace.

_Fine, _Ira seemed to say.

Shem could feel his hands trembling slightly as he reached out to take the medallion. The stone was cold to the touch, and when his skin made contact, a slight shiver went up his spine. Shem looked at it in disbelief.

_Could this be it? _

He rotated in his hand, feeling the weight in his hand. His fingers brushed against the engraving of the Aristotelian symbol. Something was wrong.

Shem looked at it one more time, and suddenly a wave of bitterness washed over him. He stood up, and the medallion dropped back onto the girl's lap. Shem almost wanted to yell in outrage.

Why had he come so close, only to end up being so far?

"What?!" Ira said, struggling to sit up as Shem paced the floor. Shem didn't notice Ira wince slightly at the pain in her chest. "What is it-"

"It's a fake," Shem said, trying not to let his anger show. His throat felt as though hot lead had been poured down it. It was hard not to explode like this. He'd looked for that medallion for ten years. The one who'd taken it away was the one whom Shem had sought to kill. And all this artificial object led to was a dead end. "_Di immortales!_"

"How? T-That's not possible," Ira stammered, taking the medallion in her hands. Shem stared at her for a minute. Did the girl think that it wasn't a fake? How did she have some sort of attachment to the object when she'd only seen it only when she woke up at Camp? Could she have had any past memories of this medallion that she was not telling? "It's not-"

"Why would you of all people care?" Shem said angrily. "You don't even know-"

The door creaked open behind the two of them, and the conversation was abruptly cut off. The silence that quickly filled the room was eerie and cautious. Now that Shem thought about it, the two of them _had _been speaking in loud voices. Did anyone hear anything?

The two of them waited as the shadowy figure entered silently through the door.


	4. Chapter 4: Interrupted

**Hello again :) Now I think I'm sure I'm posting this in less than two weeks. Sadly, in about two and a half weeks school will resume :/ **

**Ha oh well.**

**Anyways, Shem visits Ira, and they start to contemplate about the medallion, until the door mysteriously opens. Who could this person be to suddenly interrupt their intense discussion? Could it be someone who was eavesdropping? Heh. **

**Hmm. Chapter 4 is a very interesting development chapter. Our main characters starts to get a grasp of Ira's personality, while Ira starts to discover what a truly gifted demigod he really is. You'll also start to see new characters pop up now and then, ANDDD YOU KNOW WHAT? After maybe Chapter 5, it will seriously escalate VERY quickly from there. I am so excited to see this keep going :D **

**I hope that if you're impressed now, I will definitely blow your mind later ^^ 'CAUSE I WILL :)**

**VirtualViola03 - **Thank you again! I'm actually just as excited as you to see how this turns out :D Hehe I think this chapter won't have that cruel of a cliffhanger, but I hope it'll still make you come back for more! :D

**FangirlOfThe21st - **Ha HI THERE "Guest" ^^ This story IS new, and it's not those kind of stories that just go boom with a million of reviews right off the bat, but I'm so glad that you've come back to review again :)

**Thank you all for your wonderful reviews! You guys make me jump for joy :)**

**Review and GOOD LUCK readers :) **

**-Olo Eopia03**

* * *

**-Chapter 4 ~ Interrupted -**

* * *

_**L**__ies contain the deception and duplicity needed to protect or harm a person. But whoever that person may be, the reason a lie would be needed would be because you have compassion for that person. __**L**__ove or hate, whatever it is, it is felt. But most of all, do not lie to yourself. __**T**__he man who lies to himself and listens to his own lie comes to a point where he cannot distinguish the truth within him, and so loses all respect for himself and for others. And having no respect . . . __**H**__e would cease to love._

"It's a fake," Shem said angrily. He felt almost wanted to kick the chair, but he had to contain his anger. "_Di immortales!_"

"How? T-That's not possible," Ira stammered. Shem whipped around to glare at her. "It's not-"

"Why would you of all people care?" Shem said adamantly. "You don't even know-"

The door creaked open behind the two of them, and suddenly the silence pierced the air. Have they been talking too loudly? Who heard? No one knew of the medallion. Janelle and Petra or anyone who came into the room took no notice or if, nor did they care to interfere with Ira's privacy.

The door creaked open slightly, and a small head covered in curly blonde hair poked through. Shem sighed.

_Oh Dave, _Shem thought as he sat down on the floor and leaned his head lethargically against the wall. Slowly, he rummaged through his pocket until he pulled out a pipe. It was a meerschaum calabash pipe: the black colored bowl from which a brown, thin, and hollow stern known as the shank emerged, followed with the mouthpiece. The top of the wooden chamber had vanilla colored rim at the top. Shem always had the pipe with him. As he placed the pipe in his mouth with a click, he caught Ira staring at him.

"Is that-"

"No," Shem said latently, rolling his eyes.

_Why do they always think that? _Shem thought as the pipe puffed out a ring of green smoke.

He was also partly relieved because there would be no way the kid would've heard the two of them talking. Sometimes Dave seemed to be in his own world.

"Uh, Shem?" The boy said shyly as he stepped into the room. A pair of gray eyes appeared. Shem groped upwards on the bedside table until his fingers made contact with a glass bowl full of sweets and candy.

Dave was a short and skinny boy, and like many of the other campers he was twelve years old. He was maybe a couple inches shorter than Petra, and his hair was arranged into golden curls. He had mousy features, which made his physical appearance seem even smaller. After a year since his arrival at camp he was claimed as the son of Athena, and he really was interested in books and studying, despite his dyslexia. Give him an SAT test, and as soon as the results arrive you would have the perfect score sitting on your lap.

The only foible really was that he was always so shy and scared of what he wanted to do. He seemed to be one of the most insecure boys you would ever meet. Everything he learned only came from books, which would only yield to a pragmatic point of view. You had to consider _all _the possibilities. And ever since Dave found out that Shem was a talented detective and crime solver, Dave had constantly gone to Shem to ask dozens of questions and solutions for his problems.

Shem hated being Dr. Phil.

"Understand right now child," Shem breathed, feeling exasperated, "that sometimes your presence tends to take the energy out of others. What is it?"

"Um so," Dave began "I have like two things I needed to ask you about. It was because I was talking to a friend about you and they thought you weren't like that great because you can't answer this riddle."

"Dave," Shem said, glancing at Dave from top to bottom as Shem placed the calabash pipe into his pocket. Quickly, a brief scan had already been done. "You came all the way straight from the cafeteria just so you can inquire me about that riddle? And you recently aided the satyrs in planting strawberries at about eight in the morning today but your lack of hygiene tells that you came here for something you feel is urgent but actually clearly isn't. Over the last few weeks you've spent your time at home with . . . Ah yes your father and grandmother baking cookies and cupcakes. Other than that, you've also just started writing to someone frequently. Long term friend from Japan perhaps?"

"Yes," Dave said meekly.

Shem could feel Ira's eyes on him. _How did you do that? _She seemed to say. Shem waved a hand. He didn't reveal all the details to anyone unless they would ask him outright, but right now he felt very lethargic.

For the first time she was going to see what a truly mysterious person he really was.

"Fine," Shem said as he placed an unwrapped candy in his mouth. And taste of watermelon burst rapidly through his mouth. Hastily Shem flicked the wrapper upward and laid down onto the ground. "Proceed with the riddle. "

"Well you have to answer it in three seconds, because the friend I was talking to wouldn't believe you," Dave said. When Shem said nothing to this, Dave decided to continue. "Okay, so the challenge goes something like this:

_Three men went up the mountain to bring down three logs at the same time as an order. They discovered that a single person cannot carry a single log since it is too long, and the men must consider that the men are ordered to carry two logs at once. _

_The men eventually completed their task. But how did they do it?_"

Shem laughed immediately and sat up quickly. He didn't realize that Dave and Ira had exchanged a look of confusion while Shem got up to his feet with a huge smile on his face.

"It's so simple, isn't it," Shem said, grinning as he stooped down to face Dave in the face. Dave had never looked so scared. "This."

Directly in front of Dave's face, Shem had formed his fingers into a triangle.

" . . . Uh, what?" Dave asked.

"This! You don't see?" Shem asked. He ran a hand through his hair. "So this is what normal people think. Wow. I must be brilliant."

"Shem!" Ira said. Shem turned around, grinning. "You _are _pretty brilliant, but-"

"I'm flattered! But even if you don't mean to say that, I do believe that actually might be true-"

"Shem," Dave said, poking Shem behind the shoulder. "Can you tell me what the answer to the riddle is? I think you solved it in less than a second."

Shem held his hands in the formation of the triangle again.

"You don't see?" Shem asked. "Put one man at each of the three corners, and turn each of the three logs into one side of the triangle."

"What?" Dave asked. Shem squinted at him with annoyance.

"Place each man where one end of one log meets one end of another, see? They're carrying two logs at the same time. Together they bring three logs down the mountain, without exhausting the capacity of their strength. It's fairly simple."

"Goodness," Ira breathed. Shem paced back to the bed Ira was sitting on and resumed the same position on the ground. After a few moments he looked suddenly uninterested in a lot of things. "Shem, how?"

"I never knew boredom could take its toll so quickly," Shem sighed. One case after another, he would solve them as easily as he did to this riddle. But as each case went away, he would sit in his room full of boredom, trying to fill his laziness with something to do. Randomly, he threw a piece of candy out the window. Immediately, Shem almost thought he heard a satyr cry out in annoyance, but what did that matter?

"I have something more urgent to tell you too, Shem," Dave said nervously. Shem looked up, realizing that the young demigod was still there.

"What?"

"It happened today, while I was in the cabin reading," Dave said. "And-"

"Make sure you tell everything," Shem said. "Even what you were thinking at the time too."

"Wait, really?" Dave asked. Shem nodded.

"Of course."

"O-okay," Dave said. "I . . . I was putting on my watch and thinking about reading this book on anatomy when suddenly my hand started to feel like it's losing circulation."

"Who was in the room with you?"

"Two Apollo kids," Dave said. "Why does that matter? I'm pretty sure I have Raynaud's syndrome, Shem. It's when parts of your body start to lose circulation! I-I might die."

Shem sighed again. After a few minutes, he didn't seem to answer.

"Shem?" Ira said after looking at Dave's terrified face. She looked over her bed, and suddenly a surprised look crossed her face. "Shem, quit sleeping!"

"Wha-" Shem started and sat up quickly. He smirked for a second and after a stolid yawn he proceeded to talking. "Oh yes. Dave, your conclusion is so brash and so far out that you failed to catch my attention. It's just one of those stupid behaviors of paranoia that seem to grasp people who are just like you."

"What are you talking about?" Dave asked. Shem laughed.

"You _do _know that Raynaud's syndrome is a condition wherein the small arteries of the body narrow down, thereby causing a decreased supply of blood in some area, mostly fingers and toes," Shem began. "This condition, by the way, only majorly affects _women_ between the age group of 15-45. Symptoms are also mostly experienced during _winter_. However, there are no causes for this condition."

"But-"

"I assume that while you were in the room thinking about anatomy, the two Apollo kids came in discussing such a topic - considering their obsession with medicine and illness - and you subconsciously heard about this curious subject, and applied it to your own body."

"That's not possible though," Dave said tremulously.

"It's the power of the mind, child," Shem said, uninterested in what he was talking about. There were always cases such as these. Cases when doctors would give their patients medicine for a severe illness. Immediately, the person, believing that the medicine had done its magic, recovered immediately. But that was before the doctor had revealed that the liquid medicine had been sugar water. "Mind over matter. Stop overreacting."

"_But how did my arm lose circulation?!" _Dave said. "I can feel it starting to get too cold right now!"

"Your watch is too tight."

The silence that followed was so incredibly ridiculous that Shem decided to place the calabash pipe in his mouth again with a click. In a few moments, a few puffs of green smoke were emitted into the air.

"W-Wha-" Dave stammered, looking at his own hand. As a son of Athena, he probably would've never looked so stupid in his entire life. "Oh."

"Bye bye," Shem said brightly, waving his hand. Looking dejected, Dave left the infirmary room, hastily taking off the wristwatch on his arm.

As soon as the door closed, Shem's eyes flickered toward the medallion on Ira's lap. So if it was a fake, could it not have anything to do with him at all? Or was it a trap? Could it be just some coincidental thing or was she possibly just obsessed with the ancient symbols of Aristotle?

"I know what you're thinking," Ira said quietly. Shem looked away. "But you have to tell me why you care."

"Please tell me where you got that medallion." Shem said as he got to his feet and sat on the chair again. Ira shook her head.

"I don't remember," Ira said. Shem sighed as he slumped back in his seat. "But I can try. I'm starting to get back bits and pieces."

"Okay," Shem said slowly. It really _was _a start. But to exculpate her from the fact that she was the cause of all of this confusion would be hard. It would be reasonable, but for Shem it would be hard.

"I don't know where the medallion came from," Ira said. Then, her fingers laced around the black string that was holding the pendant around her neck. "But I think I'm starting to remember where I got the cord."

"You do?"

"I got it from . . ." Ira said, as though trying to extract a small bit of information from her lost memories. "I know I got it from a friend."

The door opened again. Ira froze and looked up just like the first time, but Shem didn't seem fazed. He just kept talking.

"He or she?" Shem inquired. "Is that person a demigod?"

"S-someone just came in-" Ira started.

"It's only Pet," Shem said. "Not to worry."

"Sorry," Petra said amicably as she walked toward the bedside table with a glass of water in her hand. She only came here to replace the water on the stand.

"On second thought," Shem muttered. "Be careful, because that water might be poisoned. It _is _Petra Ashling, after all. You two have met?"

"No," Petra grumbled, "Thanks for the first impression."

"Ira, Petra Ashling," Shem said hastily.

"Hi," Ira said shyly. Petra smiled back.

"Daughter of Morpheus," Shem said, and as if on cue, Petra yawned slightly. "Sleeps like a koala."

"Hey-"

"Have you heard about the two of them yet?" Shem asked, turning around to face Petra. Petra stiffened slightly, because she knew that he was talking about Allen and Elli. In truth, they were not supposed to talk about that quest anywhere. Especially in front of someone new. Petra shook her head as Ira looked up.

"Not yet," Petra said. "They just left a few days ago, remember? They should be near San Diego though."

"You think they'll make it," Shem said. Petra looked at him, slightly angered by the sudden statement. It didn't sound like a question, but it did sound very discouraging. That quest was a special one. If they even got through half way it would be a miracle. The gods were slightly unaware of it, and as Petra and Shem spoke, Shem knew that the gods were starting to be divided. After a few seconds of silence, Petra took the old glass of water from the stand. "Do you think they will find him?"

"Why not?" Petra shot back.

_Huh, _Shem puffed inwardly. _Curious answer. _

"You don't even know, Shem. The "_he" _thatyou're talking about could also be a "_she_". But if anyone believes in the two of them, it's definitely me."

_One of the most reckless answers out there, _Shem said. _Illogical, but it's Petra. _

"Petra, Ira Vagler," Shem said, but before Petra could say hi back, he continued. "_Do_ be careful about Pet, Ira, because at times she can be quite evil."

"Oh gods, Shem," Petra punched Shem playfully in the shoulder, but the smirk instantly vanished as Shem caught her fist, catching Petra off balance. In a moment, Shem cut off Petra's slight yelp as he caught her by the waist and prevented her from falling to the ground. This all happened so fast, and Ira was just sitting there watching the two of them.

_Wow, she's light, _Shem thought as Petra steadied herself back on her feet.

"Are you okay?" Ira asked. Slightly out of breath, Petra nodded.

"Sorry," Shem said, but didn't see this time as Petra cuffed him around the arm. Shem held his arms in surrender. "Okay, okay. I get it. You're not evil."

"Oh, gotta go," Petra said quickly. Shem patted her on the arm and she smiled. In a few minutes, she was out the door. "Don't let him be a butt to you! Bye Ira!"

Shem sighed.

"She's nice," Ira said, nodding.

"But young," Shem said. "She's fourteen, and she's already a powerful kid, only being the daughter of a minor god."

"She's really daring, too."

"And imprudent."

_But could she be brash just because she doesn't want to show any vulnerabilities? _Shem thought.

Shem looked back at Ira, and he knew what she was thinking when she looked at his face.

_We're going to have to go through this again, aren't we? _

"I know you hate this topic," Ira said. "But if you want me to help you, then you have to tell me why you need my help in the first place."

"You won't understand."

"I know I won't understand," Ira insisted. "But right now I have nothing, Shem. I don't even know who my mother is. Did the medallion have to do with that scar on your chest?"

Shem glared at her. He could feel her instinctively shrink away as his piercing gray eyes looked right into her. Dave's own eyes were just a natural gray, but Ira would probably see that something about Shem's eyes looked stormy and electric.

"There's a man I know," Shem said coldly. "Whom I have been seeking for ten years. He did something very unforgivable, and put me through a period of suffering."

Ira looked down at the medallion and clasped it again around her neck. He saw her stiffen up as the jaded stone brushed against her skin.

"Did it have to be that way?" Ira asked quietly.

"I will kill him." Shem said. Ira didn't say anything after a while. The silence was palpable in the air.

Shem got up to his feet and fixed his collar.

_Will there be a time when I will tell her everything? _Shem wondered. _If she knew it all, would it really help me? To find him?_

"Well, you look tired today," Shem said. Ira was sweating from slight exhaustion. Everything that they've gone through today must have taken a lot of energy.

"I'm okay."

"It seems my presence has disturbed you for a little too long."

"Wait!" Ira said. Shem stopped for a moment, but saw that Ira wasn't taking any actions to sit up from the bed. She did look a little tired.

"What?"

"You love to tell everyone the truth. Like to Dave, and to Petra. And most of the time, you're always right," Ira said. Shem shrugged. "So you're always honest."

"Well, if you consider stating the facts and having veracity," Shem said. "I'm not sure. I change slightly at times. Aren't you?"

"No," Ira told him. "But I'm the daughter of Hermes. Sometimes I am."

Shem looked at Ira. What a peculiar answer. If it had been a normal person they would've defensively say that they were as honest as any fact written on paper.

"Well, that's good to know, I guess."

"I'm not saying I'm a liar," Ira told him heatedly. Shem raised his eyebrows. "That's not how I meant it, anyways."

"How'd you mean it, then?"

"I just...I don't always say what I feel."

"Why not?" Shem asked.

"Because the truth sometimes hurts." Ira said. Shem sighed. Had he been living with the truth? Or was a lie going to shield his whole life just because he refused to find the answer? He can't just sit and wait. For once, he wanted to disagree with her.

"Yeah," Shem said, walking out the door. "So do lies, though."


	5. Chapter 5: The Unexpected Message

**Hey! It's been two weeks! I have nothing to really say here so I really hope you enjoy this chapter, because I certainly did. I thought the end of this chapter was a bit ominous, but I actually never even intended to make it that way o_o **

**Okay, make sure you look out for those bolded letters my friends ^_^ Idk why I said that, but yeah...**

**VirtualViola03 - I love agreeing with you, my friend ^_^ But it's all part of the plan . . . Muahahha! *throws hands into the air and starts choking. * Oh and good luck with those bolded letters, mate ^^ They'll still be in the intro, but they might be harder to find o.o**

**Sean Son of Athena - ****THANKS, Wanna hear it again? Ehehe. I'm very amused that you've quickly assumed that I am a guy. Anyways, Great review back there ol' sport. Great review. *applause***

**FangirlOfThe21st - *Shem cries out in horror as candy is devoured.* "No! How dare you possibly ravage upon the immensely enticing capsules of sugar in which flavorings and coloration is added!" *Shem curls up in corner and sulks.***

**Good job reviewers for the comments of delight, input, and evil doing to my characters!**

**Review, and good luck ^.^**

**-Olo Eopia03**

* * *

**- Chapter 5 ~ The Unexpected Message -**

* * *

_Messages are the most paramount sources in the utilization of communication. __**E**__ither way, whether a method is applied to encode the overall text, or simply handed over, on the other side of the wall there will always be a person in desperate need of receiving it. It is a vessel which contains a meaning that could possibly be dependent upon the context in which it is used; and its receiver determines the usefulness of the informatio__**n. I**__f it is a message of care or warning, its forerunner will still do anything they can to deliver it._

He laid there, his eyes closed as the cold frost slowly crept through the windows. The eerie silence was not true, for it was filled with heavy breathing and slight movement of other children fast asleep in the cabin.

"_Master . . ." _

Shem turned onto his side, breathing softly.

"_M-master . . ." The voice whispered. The voice was barely audible, nor was it identifiable due to the faintness of it. "The one you've been looking for-" _

"_I know," Another voice interrupted lazily. That voice. It was almost hard to place, but just the very sound of it made your spine tingle. "Your only job is to focus on what you're about to do. He told you that you're needed on this mission, so do not fail." _

"_But-" _

"_Succeed or lose your life. What I need from that child is very important." _

"_Y-yes, master." _

Reluctantly, the images shifted hastily as a new scene appeared into view.

_A small living room, with pearly white walls surrounding the wooden floor. The room was filled with a few shelves of books, a soft brown couch, and a small television in the corner. A little boy around six years old sat in the middle of the room, scribbling a doodle on paper. His light brown hair stuck out in odd directions, and his pale skin showed that he didn't get out of the house very often. His small hand scratched clumsily on the paper, but his gray eyes remained focus on the object in front of him. _

_Shem Baker._

_His father was busy researching in his study, but sometimes he would come out to see his children. _

"_Well then, so could that really happen with Steganography? . . . Oh, hey. Shem," Shem looked up excitedly to see his older brother appear at the door. His brother trailed off from what he had previously talked about._

_His brother was here! He was always the one who had been there for Shem, whatever the cause. Even better, the older boy was already the smartest in his class. He was the best in academics, excelling in various subjects and even exceeding children older than him. Shem couldn't help but glow with pride and deep respect for his older brother. To Shem, his brother was probably the coolest person in the world._

_No matter how many times Shem looked up, he thought he would see an older boy who would hold some sort of resemblance to him, but Shem was wrong. His older brother was different. He looked taller and older by five years, with his dark black hair brushed neatly on his head. _

Shem rolled uncomfortably under the blanket. He unconsciously breathed out a sigh, still entranced under a deep sleep. The windows rattled slightly as the leaves were blown against the glass. The boy in the dream. He had a name.

_Miro Baker. _

_Shem looked into Miro's sparkling gray eyes. Although Shem's eyes were the same color, it was very obvious that Miro's was brighter. It gleamed constantly and brilliantly, as though the thoughts in his head could not stand to sit in his mind. _

"_Are we going to play today?" Shem asked excitedly. As long as he was with his older brother, he Shem felt as though he was the happiest person in the world. Everything around him felt wonderful. The younger brother jumped up to his feet and padded toward Miro. Miro smiled warmly as he ruffled Shem's hair. _

"_Sure thing, Chap," Miro said. Shem saw the dark figure behind Miro, and instantly quieted down. "But I want you to meet someone, first." _

_Compared to Shem, the mysterious boy looked more like Miro's brother because of the numerous similarities. He had jet black hair that was also kept in place, but covered by a large black cap that was settled sideways. His hat complimented the black hoodie and dark jeans that he was wearing as well. The boy looked at Shem with gray eyes and a distant expression. He looked just like Miro. They even looked to be around the same age. _

_But the only problem was that the boy in front of Shem had a dark atmosphere surrounding him. Shem shrank slightly into Miro's sleeve. _

"_Hi," Shem said shyly. The older boy yawned lazily, and Shem remembered how his father emphasized the importance of good manners. "U-um nice to meet you." _

"_His name's Austin," Miro said, and the boy emitted a slight smile. Shem reached forward to grasp Austin's hand in a handshake. _

"_So you're the famous _Chap_ he keeps talking about," Austin said. "Only you don't seem to look very similar to him. The two of you look nothing alike." _

"_Right? Seeing that _you _even look more like me than Shem does." Miro said. Shem looked up in anxiety, and Miro smiled. "But that's not a problem at all."_

"_No way," Shem piped up. Miro laughed, but suddenly looked at Austin. Shem couldn't see what Miro was trying to say, but Austin nodded. _

"_Hey, tell you what," Miro said as he knelt down and put his hands on Shem's shoulders. _

"_Ya?" _

"_For today, let me go and do some studying here with Austin, okay?" Shem looked down in disappointment, but suddenly realized that Miro was still smiling. "And in exchange, I'll take you to the zoo tomorrow." _

_Shem's face lit up immediately, even Austin had to smile when the younger brother nodded eagerly. _

"_What are you researching on?" Shem asked as Miro stood back up to walk past Shem. Austin slowly followed behind. _

"_Oh, de-" Miro began, and Shem saw Austin's hand flash forward to grab Miro's arm. Miro's voice cut off immediately as he quietly turned to spare a look at his friend. The grip on Miro's arm was frighteningly tight. _

_Shem looked up tremulously at Austin's gritting teeth and the tension in his gray eyes. Shem had never seen anyone do that to his older brother before, nor has he seen anyone looked this angry. _

Don't, _Austin looked as though he was going to say. Miro tensed up slightly after the shock, then nodded. _Just don't.

Shem opened his eyes in shock and sat up. Sunlight was streaming through the windows of the Athena cabin. As Shem looked around, he realized that everyone had already woken up and gone outside. Miu the owl was fluttering about near the bookshelves. How long had he slept?

_Demigod, _Shem thought as his mind flickered back to the ominous dream. He rubbed his eyes wearily. _He was going to say demigod. _

"_So you're the famous _Chap _he keeps talking about," Austin said. _

Shem could feel his knuckles turn white as his fingers closed around the covers around him.

"_Are we going to play today?" Shem asked excitedly. As long as he was with his older brother, Shem felt as though he was the happiest person in the world. Everything around him felt wonderful. _

Shem threw the covers aside.

Cold sweat was matted on his forehead, and he could feel his heart throb as his blood chilled him to the bone. Everything felt wonderful?

_The stupid fool, _Shem thought coldly as he got out of bed and got dressed. He could feel his cold hands gripping hard on everything he touched. His movements were sharp and exact, not clumsy and carefree. Not like before. Never would he feel that way again. _How foolish. _

There was a soft knock on the door, and Shem looked up from the side of the bed to see the door open slightly.

"Sorry," Ira said meekly, her head shyly poking through. Shem was surprised that she was out of the infirmary. Ira's dirty blonde hair had been tied back into a ponytail, and she was wearing jeans and the normal orange Camp Half-Blood shirt. "Hi."

"Are you okay?"

"Fine," Ira said. Shem nodded with satisfaction. At least she was alright. "I feel tons better."

"Why are you here? Do you need anything?"

"I'm allowed to walk around for a bit, so I decided to come by and check things out," Ira said. Shem hastily put on his coat, trying to shake off that dream he'd had earlier. Or more exactly, that memory. "C-can I come in?"

There were things that Shem didn't want to remember, but no matter how hard he tried, they would always come back.

Maybe he should let them come back. So that Shem could find him.

Shem looked at Ira, then shook his head slightly as he walked out the door with her.

"Sorry, there are rules here at Camp," Shem said as he closed the door to Cabin Six. He looked around, and saw that the sun was shining brightly over camp. It looked like it was about early afternoon, and a lot of the campers were already up and about, heading to classes or training. Shem placed a hand on Ira's shoulder for reassurance. Was she really alright? Ira's head came up to his chin level, which really wasn't a bad height. She was pretty average for her age, maybe about five feet five inches. "But I'll show you around."

Ira looked up at Shem with bright blue eyes as a sweet smile crossed her face. The medallion was still hanging around her neck.

"Thanks."

The two of them walked around for about ten minutes, and Shem talked about the everyday life at camp. Shem liked how Ira paid attention to everything he said, and even when he went a bit too fast or talked with a slightly extensive vocabulary, she would always stop him to ask questions.

In another twenty minutes, the two of them had reached the lake.

"Sorry but I really want to ask," Ira said after Shem had finished talking about Capture the Flag and the various strategies that could be used to easily win the game. "How did you get to Camp Half-Blood?"

The two of them walked for a bit, and Shem's gaze drifted off a bit as he stared at the shimmering blanket of water in the middle of the expanding field of grass. A ring of pebbles surrounded the water, and every now and then, a single green leaf would fall onto the vast body of water, creating a beautiful pattern of ripples that would enhance the already beautiful scenery.

Shem still felt Ira's eyes on him as she waited for an answer, and unwillingly, he felt the tips of his ears grow warm. He put a hand through his hair as he looked at her.

"To be honest with you," Shem said. "I don't know."

Ira smiled.

"So you decide to interrogate me in return?" Ira laughed. Shem smiled.

"I was seven years old," Shem said slowly. It really _was _a young age to be arriving at Camp like that. There were very few demigods who'd come the same way. Shem dug his hands into his pockets and puffed out in embarrassment. "I appeared out there on the hill, just like you. Unconscious."

"What a hypocrite," Ira said, rolling her eyes. When she realized that Shem wasn't really smiling, an apologetic expression crossed her face. "I was kidding."

Suddenly, Shem felt Ira's hand slip into his. Shem stared at Ira for a bit, but looked away immediately since her expression had not changed. Maybe she was feeling a little scared because of the surroundings around her. She was completely new to this place. Or was she sympathizing for him?

"My father's an inventor," Shem said. "His habits and deepest desires were to discover new things. But he was a good man."

It looked as though Ira had one question that had been burning in her mind. _Where is he now? _

She didn't ask.

"You say you've never been given a quest before," Ira said. She'd been referring to the time when the two of them had walked past the Big House earlier that day, and Shem had talked briefly about the oracle. "Did you actually want to go on any, though?"

"Not in particular," Shem said, looking away. There was a quest going on right now, and not many people knew about it. Whatever happens, Ira shouldn't really find out about it because of how covert and confidential it was. "I was able to get out occasionally, however. Many people requested for cases to be solved."

"So you're pretty well known around here?" Ira asked. Shem shrugged. What kind of question was that? Did she expect him to say that he was the best of the best?

As much as Shem would love to admit that, he already knew he wasn't.

"You're sixteen, right?" Shem asked to clarify.

Although they both appeared at the hill of Camp Half-Blood without knowledge of how they've gotten there, Shem knew that the two experiences were too different to be compared with one another. For one, the age difference would affect their experiences quite drastically. Shem wondered what Ira might've lost before being attacked by that hellhound. A friend? Family member?

"Yeah, why?" Ira asked.

"Hey!" A voice called out, and Shem and Ira turned around to see Ken running toward them. Ken was sweating, but it didn't look as though he'd done too much work. The boy was wearing a Camp Half-Blood shirt and jeans, which a huge grin plastered across his face.

Ira seemed to shrink closer to Shem's side. Shem almost flinched, but Ira didn't seem to notice. Shem could feel her grip on his hand tighten slowly. She seemed to be so shy around everything. Shem let go of her hand.

"Don't worry," Shem said. "He's a friend. Annoying, but a friend."

Ira nodded slightly, but never left Shem's side.

Ken finally stood before the two of them, his eyes full of mischief. His blonde hair was a little ruffled up from running, but that didn't stop his elvish ears from poking out. Ken's blue eyes gleamed at Shem with ecstatic energy as he panted lightly.

"Holmes!" Ken said. "I need to ask - Oh. Whoa."

Shem noticed Ken's eyes drift toward Ira, but Ira was too busy staring at the leaves that were floating toward the lake's surface. Shem saw Ken's mouth gape open slightly, but his eyes darted back to Shem and a big grin was newly glued onto Ken's face. Shem rolled his eyes.

"Ken-"

"Hey girl," Ken said, and Shem caught the note in his voice drop lower into a more smooth tone. Ken ran his hand through his hair, smoothing it down as the ruffled locks started to flatten on his head. Ira looked up and smiled shyly.

"Hi," Ira said. Ken was rolling back and forth on his heels. From any standpoint, you would be able to tell that he was truly lovestruck.

"So," Ken said, trying to keep his voice from shaking. Shem sighed. He never knew Ken could be like this. Trumped over by a girl. But . . . well that _was _Ken. Ken glared at Shem for a single moment, but his expression changed immediately as Ira looked back at him. "The name's Ken Fletcher. Son of Hermes!"

Shem noted Ken's previous expression like he was saying, _You, Shem? With a girl like her?_

"Sorry Ken, but she still needs to visit a few other places," Shem said coolly as Ira started to move closer towards Shem. Ken's mouth was about to drop wider . . . But he was not the type to give up.

"Did it hurt?" Ken asked as he stuck his hands into his pockets and his attention continued to focus on Ira. Ira looked up.

"What?"

"You know, when you fell down from heaven." Ken said as a cheesy grin crossed his face.

Shem felt like running headlong into the lake. _Didn't everyone use that pick up line? _

Maybe Ken was the type who wanted to stay classy.

"Do you have a problem?" Ira asked, blushing profusely. She _did _look a little startled by the sudden question. Shem stared at the two of them with boredom in his eyes. This was going to go well.

"Oh well you see," Ken said. "I need a map."

Shem's hands reached upward as he massaged his temples in slight frustration.

"Why?" Ira asked.

"Because I got lost in your eyes," Ken said cockily.

"And we're going to leave now." Shem said as he guided Ira away.

"Okay, okay, I'll stop!" Ken said, running in front of the two of them and telling them to wait. His eyes were still gazing at Ira. "So how are you? You have a guy who's seeing you already?"

"Oh, I'm fine," Ira said. She didn't seem to catch the second part of Ken's question. "Shem's just showing me around."

"Really?" Ken laughed. "Shem? A guy like _him_ showing _you _around? Miss, I think you'd prefer someone a bit more . . . _Slick._"

Shem couldn't help but roll his eyes a second time.

"Um . . ." Ira said slowly as her eyes flitted back at Shem. "Well, I don't know."

"Who's your godly parent?" Ken asked enthusiastically as he tried to prolong the conversation. He was starting to die feebly, though. "Aphrodite, right? You look hot- er, I mean cute."

Shem's eyes flickered, and he almost smiled. He knew what was coming.

"Hermes." Ira said. Ken's eyes widened as though someone had pumped a gust of air into his eye sockets.

"_W-What?_" Ken stammered. "Did you say Hermes? 'Cuz I thought you said Hermes."

"Um, ya," Ira said, looking slightly confused. "Sorry."

"Why are you sorry?" Shem asked. "It's just a coincidence that Ken's father is Hermes as well."

"Oh!" Ira said, her face suddenly looking bright. "So we're siblings, right?"

"Yes . . ." Ken said weakly. Shem smirked. In general, no matter how unrelated the two of you may be, no one in Camp Half-Blood fell in love with another who had the same godly parent. It would be a little weird for him to be chasing one of his sisters, after all.

"We should hangout more, then!" Ira said. "We can be friends."

Shem couldn't believe he was having so much fun.

"Friends . . ." Ken said again, his voice returning to its normal pitch. "Just friends."

Ken's shoulders slumped slightly.

The light shone on the three of them, and Shem's gaze locked onto Ira's medallion. For some reason, he couldn't shake off the feeling that there was something . . . off about it. Why was it a fake? And because it was a fake, why did Ira have to bring it all the way here? Was she actually taking it here for a purpose, or was it just some random object that happened to be here by coincidence?

Shem didn't believe in coincidences anymore.

"Actually," Shem said slowly, looking at the shining locket. "Let's go and take a look at something, shall we Ira?"

"Sure," Ira said, smiling. "You've got to show me around more."

Ira placed her arm around Shem's, and Shem though he heard Ken whimper. Shem sighed at the sight of Ira looping her arm around his. Maybe she was just comfortable that way. And sometimes Ken was just as unlucky as it gets.

"Of course, Ira," Shem said, and the two of them started to walk away from Ken. "See ya around, Ken!"

"Yes! We'll see you around, brother!" Ira cried out happily as she turned around to wave back at Ken. Ken grumbled and started muttering to himself as he began to trudge away.

"Brother . . . What kind of . . . Love . . Idiot."

**[xxx]**

"Hm . . ." Raymond said as his eyes glance at Ira's medallion. He was busy working on a metal sphere that shot out gusts of fire and performed various actions, and he was barely paying attention to the necklace around Ira's neck. His hammer delicately touched a spot on the object, and suddenly the whole thing glowed green and started to vibrate. Raymond continued to mutter at himself. "_That_ wasn't supposed to happen. . . Er- I'm not sure about that necklace, Shem. Hold on for a bit."

Shem and Ira walked into what looked like a tiny factory or an over-sized motor-home. It was Cabin Nine, for the children of Hephaestus, the god of blacksmiths and fire. Shem glanced over, and saw Ira's eyes were gleaming with curiosity as her mouth opened slightly.

The vault-like and circular door that was composed of thick metal closed behind the two of them, emitting a series of clicks as the gears started to turn and wisps of smoke hissed into the air. Shem guessed it was okay to have other people step into other cabins, just as long as there were more than two people.

Surrounding them were glistening metal walls and metal slatted doors. The Hephaestus cabin had been noted for being very untidy, but saying that was an understatement. Junk lined the walls and scraps of metal, plastic, and other materials were scattered all over the floor. An assortment of weapons hung on the walls, and it looked almost like the home of a child of Ares had it not been for all the other tools that lay hanging alongside them. Steel bunks were folded against the walls, and Shem knew that they were activated to move with a digital control panel.

On one end of the room, there was a pit of glowing hot coals filled with Greek fire.

It was a noisy cabin, and deeper throughout the room you could hear people yelling at each other, electric sparks shooting out from dark places, and welding machines beaming out flames and melting hot, glowing metal.

"You okay there, Stone?" Someone said as she scurried out to grab something. The person was a girl with a white cap on her dark hair, wearing a light green tank top, thick trousers, and thick, solid boots. Her dark skin was covered in sweat and smudges of soot and oil, and her white cap looked almost gray.

"Yeah, fine, Jess," Raymond said as he held his hand out. Almost immediately, a wrench had zoomed out of nowhere and placed itself in Raymond's hand. Raymond continued to tinker around with the metal sphere. Jess nodded as she hurried away after hearing a faint explosion deeper into the cabin.

Raymond looked back and saw Shem and Ira waiting there. He muttered a bit about fixing it later and he hastily threw the ball into the air and turned around to face them. The sphere clicked softly, and a propellor shot out of an opening and it flew away into one of the tool boxes in the high shelves on the wall.

"Wow." Ira breathed.

"Can I take a look at that, please?" Raymond asked. To both Shem and Ira, he was about seven inches taller and twice as muscular. "I'm Raymond Stone, by the way."

"Ira Vagler," Ira replied. After a few moments she reached up to unclasp the necklace and reluctantly handed it over to Raymond.

Although Raymond had huge hands, his long fingers surprisingly caressed the small object and rotated the medallion in front of his eyes. For a moment, Raymond's eyebrows furrowed.

"What do you make of it, Stone?" Shem asked. Raymond put the medallion to his ear, then placed it just above where his heart would be.

"Where did you get this?" Raymond asked.

"She doesn't remember." Shem answered. Raymond's expression suddenly turned to concern.

"Sorry, but hold on," Raymond took the medallion and walked over toward the pit of Greek fire. "I think you should step back for a second."

Instead, Ira took a step forward, almost reaching out for the medallion in panic, but Shem grabbed her and quickly stepped back behind a nearby old mattress that was just laying around.

Raymond threw the medallion into the fire.

"No!" Ira cried out as the Greek Fire burst out in flames and exploded, causing the whole cabin to creak and tremble. Raymond was blown backward into the table full of tools, and there was a resounding crash and a fit of coughing. Even Shem and Ira staggered and fell onto the ground due to the violent tremor.

Shem and Ira, luckily unscathed, ran out to see Raymond groaning and staggering back on his feet, his whole body covered in soot.

Raymond coughed a little more, with smoke was rising from his body. Shem knew that if the two of them hadn't hidden a few feet away, they wouldn't have been so lucky. Raymond had powers that not a lot of people knew, and he wasn't afraid of fire, no matter how dangerous it was.

It just didn't hurt him.

"Sorry," Raymond said, and flicked his hand upward. The medallion soared out of the Greek Fire pit and landed on his hand. It was almost burning, it's shell glowing green in Raymond's hand. Anyone but Raymond could touch that medallion at this point and get a badly burned hand. Raymond coughed again, shaking his head to focus. "There was a force of dark magic around it."

"Did you really have to do that?" Ira said, although staring at Raymond. Ira didn't know that Raymond could control the fire. Shem knew the whole story, but it was so long ago. About three years ago, when another incident had occurred.

Sadly, that story would be saved for another day.

Ira reached out to take the medallion, but Raymond held it out of reach.

"Hold on," Raymond said. "It's burning hot still. You don't wanna hurt yourself, you know. The magical barrier is already destroyed now, thanks to the Greek Fire."

"I heard that you guys were lucky to still have some Greek Fire left in store." Shem said, glancing at the pit. It was still viciously shooting out flames and glowing bright emerald. Raymond nodded.

"Okay, now let's actually look at this thing." Raymond said, as his fingers twined through the medallion again with great finesse. "Ah, there."

Shem saw it, too. It was so small and barely noticeable until Raymond had finally identified it. A small and thin crack on the very edge of the medallion. It was a locket.

If the Greek Fire hadn't weakened the object, then they probably would've never been able to spot the miniscule crack. With great care, Raymond opened the locket with a click, and a torn piece of paper flew out from the inside.

Shem snatched up the wrinkled paper before it could fly away into the pit of Greek fire, and saw that a bunch of numbers were written inside. Shem felt his face grow pale with excitement.

"Stone, I think we'll leave now," Shem said. His voice was trembling with ecstasy. "Assistance is _deeply _appreciated."

His mind was flashing with an earlier memory.

_Another scroll almost tumbled out of Janelle's arms, but Shem caught it before it fell to the ground. It was a scroll on cryptography._

"_Encryptions," Shem said, his interest perking up. Shem was known for being completely obsessed with codes and programming._

"_Oh," Janelle said, sounding slightly embarrassed. "Only the basics. I'm really fond of Caesar's code." _

"_The simplest codes are always one of the most well known," Shem agreed. "They're always useful too, in case you need to send an urgent message."_

It was a code. A message. He knew it the medallion wouldn't come here for nothing!

"Sure thing," Raymond said, tossing the locket back to Ira. "Come again and visit, okay?"

"Hold on, what's happeni-" Ira said, but her voice was cut off as Shem sprinted out the door. Shocked and confused, Ira ran after him. "Shem! Wait!"

Raymond looked back at the two of them, and shrugged indifferently.

" 'Wonder what mysterious case Shem's gotten into now." Raymond said.

**[xxx]**

Shem burst into Cabin six with the paper still clutched in his hand. The other Athena children looked up in surprised when they saw Ira running in after him, but continued back to their studies. Shem could barely contain the excitement - no matter how dreadful the result would be - that was boiling inside him.

Shem saw that Miu was already fluttering toward his bed with the book of Aristotle and the field notes in its claws. Shem smiled as he jumped onto his bed as he grabbed the Daedalus laptop from the floor.

"Shem!" Ira gasped as she too plopped down on the bed next to him. Shem didn't notice how exhausted she look, and was too busy activate the various operations that were required to scan an object from the Daedalus laptop. Slowly, a small radar appeared from the top of the screen, and a tiny platform slide out from the side of the computer. "What's going on?"

"This page," Shem held the wrinkled paper up so that Ira could look at it. "Look at the way it was torn."

His hands were shaking with excitement, but Ira still couldn't see what was wrong.

"What about it?"

"Look," Shem's hands frantically fumbled through the pages of a green leather bound book. He muttered something about it being a book from Aristotle, and Ira could only nod in reply. Finally, he reached the missing last page and held up to the torn paper that Ira was holding. The tear was a perfect fit between the torn page and the book. "The last page."

"But how?" Ira exclaimed. "The chances of that happening are practically impossible."

"That's why," Shem said as he took the page from her hand and put it underneath the scanner of the Daedalus laptop onto the tiny platform. Slowly, the radar began to make a slight whizzing noise, and a neon blue light appeared and started to scan the object.. It had taken some time, but Shem had explored through the depths and the domains of the laptop, and realized that it could do more than what Annabeth had told him. The laptop beeped after a second, and an image and full description appeared before the two of them. "We have this to affirm that it's derived from the equivalent material."

_Successful Match Indicated, _it read on the screen in bright green letters. _The Foundations and Findings of Aristotle. _

"In truth," Shem said. "There was a very exiguous amount of authentic books by Aristotle that had been preserved and imported here to Camp Half-Blood, or any international library for that matter," He held the book up to Ira, and Ira held it in her hands. "This was one of the only ones left. It's a definite match."

_But I have no clue how I came to become in possession of it though, _Shem thought silently.

"What are the numbers written on the last page, though?" Ira asked as Shem took the page from the platform of the laptop. Immediately the platform retracted with another buzz, and the radar disappeared from view.

"Hey, Abby!" Shem said, and a blonde girl sitting at a table from across the room turned around, and Shem made a scribbling gesture and raised his hand. In a second, two pencils flew separately across the room, and Shem caught them easily. "Thanks!"

"No problem, Holmes!" The girl cried back.

"It's an encryption," Shem said to Ira as he scrutinized the list of numbers that had been hastily scribbled on.

_Medium: Pencil. _

_Numbers: 2:3, 4:32, 5:17, 6:21, 31:1, 1:2, 1:4, 1:5, 4:3, 54:1, 31:1, :44:9, 19:12, 11:11, 13:19 . . ._

The 30 numbers written previously had been followed by another 70 numbers.

_100 numbers in total, in 50 groups of two numbers. 50 sets of numbers, each one not correlated with each other in anyway, or any specific pattern. _

Shem's mind was whirling with anxiety as he stared at the code.

_Could it really be that simple? _

He stared at Aristotle's book, and looked at each page. Why was it too easy?

"What is it?" Ira asked.

"It's easy," Shem muttered. _Why? _"Help me."

"How?"

"These 50 sets of numbers," Shem said. He handed Ira one of the pencils he was holding. "The first number of each set is undoubtedly the page number of a book, and the second number is where that letter is located on that page. Help me write all of them."

The two of them immediately started to scratch down the numbers onto the torn piece of paper, and they finished in about five minutes.

However, when Shem stared at the paper, it was only a bunch of letters.

_Agw qep ze nbm lsfx. Oote ifhj ku venn ikqd, oid rewg koe dzx ksbl._

"Well, that's a relief." Shem sighed.

"What, why?" Ira asked in panic. "These don't even make any sense."

"Wouldn't you even be a little worried if it were that easy?" Shem asked, and Ira didn't say anything after that. Shem leaned his head on the wall and brought his knees up to his chest and rested his shoulders on his knees. His fingers were connected, interlaced and intertwining in front of his face. Shem closed his eyes.

"I don't understand what's wrong though," Shem heard Ira say. "I mean, I thought we were really going to see a message."

_What did I miss . . . _Shem thought silently.

_100 numbers, fifty sets. _

_Medium, pencil. _

_Material: The Foundations and Findings of Aristotle. _

_Page authenticity: hundreds of years old._

_Material contained by paper and book: papyrus, leather. _

Shem opened his eyes. He felt as though a bolt of electricity had jolted through his body. He looked at the numbers again.

_Medium: pencil. _

_Authenticity of writing: Ten years old. _

Ten years. Ten years ago, when everything had started. Shem felt his heart stop.

Shem looked over to his side and saw a second book lying on his bed. The field notes of Nicholas Baker.

Shem felt his shaking hands reach for the notebook, and he handed it over to Ira.

_It wasn't that simple at all. _

Shem slumped back onto the bed. The book was a blank, though.

"What do we do." Shem groaned.

Ira stared at him.

"Hold on," Ira said. "There must be _something _we didn't try yet."

Shem closed his eyes again.

_He was going to say demigod. Miro Baker. One of the smartest boys in his age. Could he be smart enough to deceive someone like me at this age? _Shem thought.

_A boy knowledgeable in demigods, and possibly all of Greek mythology. A father who was also extending his sights away from his research. _

_Austin and Miro. Two best friends. Did Austin know Miro might've been a demigod himself? How did they know that demigods existed? Austin was not a demigod, was he?_

_Demigods. Greek Mythology. _

Shem looked at the last page of Nicholas Baker's notes. The scribbled upside down triangle looked as though it was staring back at him. It looked as though . . . that triangle was essential.

Shem looked at the medallion around Ira's neck, and with one look, Ira hastily took it off and gave it to him. She knew what he was thinking of as well.

Shem placed the medallion on top of the book, but he knew nothing would happen.

_What could happen? _

The symbol meant foundation and earth. Why would this medallion be needed?

Shem held up the medallion to look at the symbol, and the light that streamed through the window caught the stone. The locket gleamed back at Shem.

"Di immortales." Shem muttered quietly.

"Shem," Ira said quickly. "Hold the locket there."

Shem looked at her, and Ira held the book up to the reflected light emitted from the medallion. The glowing green light shined upon the pages, and Shem could've sworn he saw something appear.

The two of them couldn't believe their eyes.

The reflected light shone onto the paper for a moment, but once the beam left the page, a few dark spots started to appear. Slowly, letters started to form on the pages of the book. But how was that scientifically possible? Shem stared at the pages, and Ira breathed out a sigh of awe. The book was starting to fill up with written words from a quill, all the words that have been written by Nicholas Baker.

How?

_Steganography. _

Miro had talked about it earlier. It was the art and science of concealing a message into a form of security through obscurity. Whether by protection or magic, the writing was to be covered and hidden away.

The term had derived from Greek origins.

Shem looked at the medallion. In Greek Mythology, medallions were . . . They were considered to be magical. Shem felt his blood chill.

How did Miro know this much? That wasn't possible at all. Did he have help? How was he able to enchant them, even though he was only a son of Athena. The more he started to find out, the more confusing everything started to seem.

Who knows when the answer will be revealed in its entirety.

No wonder he couldn't gain any access to the book itself. It required the medallion.

Shem almost wanted to take it away and read the whole field guide. The pages were filled with diagrams, notes, and pictures. His father's handwriting. Did his father know about this?

Shem shook his head. He'll read it later. First he needed the code.

"There." Shem whispered. Ira's face turned slightly pale with excitement.

The two of them translated it more quickly this time, but Shem wasn't paying attention to Ira's ecstatic chattering about what the code could be. Slowly, the string of letters formed words, and with every letter, Ira started to get quieter.

The upside down triangle that was scribbled on the back of the book. The numbers scribbled on the page. It was all written down by one person. He wanted Shem to find the message.

He was too busy thinking of one thing. It was one thing that he had been waiting to see in a long, long time. And it was there, before his eyes. Shem felt his heart stop for the second time.

_Owner of handwriting. Identity determined: Austin Baynes. _

"Done." Ira said softly as she wrote the last letter onto the torn and wrinkled page. The message glared back at them with an ominous tone, and Shem knew that it was a message for him:

'_The key is the gift. Come with an open mind, and wait for the kill.' _


	6. Chapter 6: The Decision

**Okay. . . You could say I got a tad bit lazy. . . **

**Or maybe a lot. **

**I remember posting Chapter 5 like it was yesterday, but apparently that was about a month and a half ago ^.^ I apologize greatly. High School hits you in the face like some huge boulder, and the stress builds easily :D Anyone finish House of Hades yet? 3 3 **

**So let's actually do a recap. a) There's Shem at Camp, and he's with Petra talking. b) Holy moly there's an unconscious girl there on the hill of Camp Half Blood. c) Shem has an interesting past, but when will it be revealed? Something about his brother and father, perhaps? d) There's tension between the girl and Shem, and he finds out that her name is Ira Vagler. e) She has no memory and is carrying a mysterious locket which Shem has some special attachment to. Why? AHA You will actually know in Chapter 7 because I've been writing ahead. f) Raymond Stone is able to open the locket for them and a code flies out. g) The two of them solve the code! **

_**The key is the gift. Come with an open mind, and wait for the kill.**_

**And there you have it, we have come to the current situation of our beautiful story. I really suggest that you reread everything, because I had to while writing the next few chapters :) Also, as time passed in the story, Ira finds Shem's strange ability of deduction. They aren't really powers because he's a child of Athena, but it's because he feels he's a son of a minor god that he wants to be just as great. AND HE IS! :)**

**Okay recap done.**

**VirtualViola03 - Thank you so much for the review yoooo :D ;D I really wish I was an amazing writer, but sadly I'm not :D I'm just an ordinary teenager all cramp here in front of my computer writing little fantasies of characters that will get into any weird debacles that I come up with. **

**REVIEW AND GOOD LUCK EVERYONE. **

**-Olo Eopia03**

* * *

**- Chapter 6 ~ The Decision**

* * *

_**A**__n unbroken promise. The reason why anyone would want to take action would be because they had something important that is needed to be done. No matter how deceiving it could turn out to be. No one would do it without a purpose. __**M**__ay it be some other reason why anyone would want to do such a thing . . . It's beyond anyone's idea. _

Shem and Ira stared at the writing on the paper.

_The key is the gift. Come with an open mind, and wait for the kill._

Around them, the cabin was still bustling with activity. The children of Athena were scribbling onto papers, looking at different simulations as various experiments were being tested on models. The curtains were positioned slightly as a ray of sunlight streamed into the room. Every child was immersed into their own activity. Every child was too busy to take notice of the two older teenagers sitting and staring affixed at a small, wrinkled up paper.

Shem took the paper in his hand. Ira was looking at him, probably wondering what he was thinking of. Her blue eyes were trailing down his whole body, as if analyzing every pore on his skin.

_Finally. _Shem's shoulders quivered with excitement.

The room of the Athena Cabin shook slightly as a resounding boom resonated through the walls. People cried out as stacks of papers flew to the ground and another gust of wind caused the curtains of each window to shudder. The furniture started to shudder and 3-Dimensional models started to clutter off the shelves.

_BOOM. _

Many of the children in the cabin stood up, expressing signs of confusion. Their eyes were all filled with a sudden fear. Shem locked eyes with Ira's medallion.

"Let's get out," Shem muttered as he dragged Ira off the bed. The two of them scurried toward the end of the room as Shem grabbed a cane that had been leaning at the edge of the door. Everyone had frozen, but all had turned eyes towards Shem and Ira since they were the first ones to start moving. Shem looked at all of his siblings before running out the door. The cabin shook again. Shem cried out to his siblings in the cabin, "Sorry. Hopefully the apologies are accepted, but not to worry. It will follow us out."

"What are you talking-" Ira said, then stared in disbelief as the cane in Shem's right hand elongated into a thin, long and dark colored sword.

Almost immediately after they came out the door, the entrance of the Athena cabin almost exploded, but what really appeared was an ugly looking gnome.

Shem sighed. If the two of them had unlocked something in Ira's medallion, there's no doubt that the medallion would have a few magical barriers that would need to be come across. Dealing with Monsters was one of them.

However, the Kobaloi were particularly nothing to even be afraid of. They were tiny small imps that looked like naked green goblins, and when they were present, they would hide in the whispers of the wind, or the corners of all shadows and terrorize what every territory they've inhabited. Once the people whom they were targeting would leave the building, Kobaloi would usually show itself and try to annoy their victims to death. Obnoxious, small, irrational, and very aggravating. Easy to kill, but ugly in sight. They looked like horrifying little shriveled up children.

This Kobalos caused the air around them to shiver as it burst through the doorframe and appeared right in front of Shem and Ira. Ira squeaked at the sight of the monster.

"Nasty little things," Shem muttered. "So ugly they could make fish drown."

The Kobalos in front of the two of them screamed a cry as high-pitched and as piercing as a banshee - revealing a row of sharp teeth - and lunged toward Shem, and Shem stumbled backward as he slashed down his sword. Ira shrieked as the tiny monster exploded into a cloud of golden dust. Ira looked so shocked that it seemed that she would never bother to ask what kind of creature that was.

_Well, that was highly prosaic, _Shem thought. He looked over to see that Ira was unhurt. The monster was gone in a second, and the Athenian children who had been poking their heads out the door slowly disappeared one by one.

"That sword," Ira said, staring at the long blade. "How can it do that?"

"I know it's black, but it's really celestial bronze," Shem said simply as the black sword returned back to its original form. Shem strapped the cane to his waist, and to his preference, the cane had shortened a bit to provide legroom and less irritation to his limbs. "It's mine, and I tend to use it quite often in my travels."

"Why did that monster appear?"

"Your medallion must've allegedly incited a trigger, which allowed a monster to escape," Shem said, glancing at the medallion again. He'd handed it back to Ira once the code had been solved. He wouldn't want another monster coming out of that thing. Shem looked at Ira. "Can you _please _tell me anything about the medallion?"

He looked at the necklace closely this time. Only an experienced child of Hephaestus or Hecate would be able to confirm it completely, but Shem spotted no more cracks in the medallion and a dark or strange atmosphere was no longer present.

At least, not anymore.

"I can't-"

"A fairly insignificant monster just appeared from that locket," Shem interrupted her. He had to say this quickly, or maybe one day he would never be able to tell her. Shem's mind flickered through almost a hundred images - the Big House, the lake, Thalia's pine, the campfire gatherings . . . The images went on and on until it had stopped to the cabin of Morpheus. "If something else – something more dynamic and more formidable - breaks through or is drawn to this camp, you're going to put people in danger."

Ira looked down for a moment and didn't say anything for a while. Shem didn't feel as though his statement could hurt anyone, but he thought he saw her expression change slightly. Was it nostalgia? Did she remember something?

"You really care about them, don't you?" Ira said, looking up. Shem was almost caught off guard. Did he really say that to her? Was that really how he felt? "Your family."

_Your family. _Her last two words echoed in Shem's mind a second time. He never said anything about family. But when he thought about it, he realized that the people at Camp Half-Blood were not anything close to being his family.

They weresomething even more.

"Just tell me about that medallion," Shem insisted. He remembered the scar around his neck. "I'll take anything. Anywhere to start."

"You're _going _somewhere," Ira realized. "Aren't you?"

After a minute, Shem finally nodded. He couldn't keep it a secret for so long. But if he wanted her to help him, he guessed that him leaving Camp would be revealed sooner or later.

"It's time for me to end things," Shem said. "I've waited for so long."

"I can barely remember _anything _about the medallion, Shem," Ira said. Her eyes told the truth, and her voice made him feel as though everything that she had said was utterly sincere. However, she took off the medallion and put it in his hand, coiling the black string into his palm. "But I now that I've remembered bits and pieces, I can tell you where this cord comes from."

A tingle went up Shem's spine. That was perfect.

"Tell me."

"A boy about your age gave it to me," Ira began. "What's very convenient about it was that I was going to tell you all about him anyway, since he's also a demigod. But he's very powerful."

"A demigod," Shem said quietly. He felt the hairs on his arms stand on end. A demigod? "Outside of Camp Half-Blood."

"He calls himself Lynx," Ira continued, as if unaffected by the fact that this demigod was not part of this Camp. About Shem's age, and he's _still_ alive? "And he has the location of _every _demigod in the world."

Shem felt a feeling of shock sear through him. _Every location? _A demigod outside of Camp Half-Blood who's been living by himself for around seventeen years is able to obtain such powerful information?

If he knew of every single location, then why didn't he come to Camp Half-Blood? Wouldn't he know that he'd be safe here where there was a highly concentrated population of demigods in one place? Or was the magic of Thalia's Pine preventing this boy from seeing Camp?

_He could raise an army with that, _Shem thought. _If Kronos got a hold of him . . . _

"How do the two of you know each other?" Shem inquired.

"We met after defending each other from a monster a while back," Ira recalled, but then she looked at Shem with a sheepish expression. "But . . . I don't know where to find him."

"Are you sure?"

"I can only remember that much," Ira said, and didn't say anything for a long time. Shem realized that she looked more tired than when she'd come to visit his cabin. She could walk around Camp Half-Blood for a bit, but didn't that mean she would also have to go to the infirmary to take a rest?

"You're exhausted," Shem said. Ira didn't even reply, but she shook her head defiantly. Her face was pale and sweating.

"No I'm not."

The two of them walked back to the infirmary, passing the basketball courts and the archery range. When Shem looked around, he'd noticed that no one was fazed by the small monster attack around the Athena Cabin. It was only lucky that the monster had not been more powerful. Shem saw the light gleam around the trees as more demigods continued to do their own thing. The way they all acted, the smiles and looks of determination on their faces, was what made Shem feel so interested in all of them. They were all a family.

Shem waited as Ira, who had finally given up, decided to walk towards the entrance by herself.

"Go rest," Shem said, and Ira nodded. "I'll see you tomorrow."

**[xxx]**

"Checkmate again, Mike," Shem said, grinning as Mike Park let out a groan of despair.

"Again?" Mike exclaimed, leaning back in his chair. "I could almost swear I was going to win this time. You even made that mistake."

"You only thought it was a mistake," Shem said. "But it was an intentional mistake."

Mike Park sighed again. He was an average height for his age, and was a very good natured and friendly kid. At this moment, the majority of the people who live in Camp Half-Blood are about 14 years old, and Mike was one of them. He was a son of Hecate, and one of the only few. There were only a small number of beds in the cabin, but a single bed next to Mike's lay empty, and a thin layer of dust had started to form over two years. Every time Shem had come into the cabin, he'd always noticed Mike's eyes stray toward that bed for a slight second, a sad smile forming on his face . . .

Shem looked into Mike's hazel eyes, noting his anxious appearance and his dark blonde hair.

Most demigod children would be born with one or a few special abilities, or that power would be developed over time as that child grew. However, Mike was different. He had at first been born with the power of invisibility, but two years ago Hecate had replaced it with the power to mind read. It was odd enough, and Hecate was a pretty mysterious goddess. So far, he was the only demigod whose powers have been switched out so easily.

It was a very dangerous and helpful tool, but only if you could control it. Back then, Mike would've always been able to control it with a special device that could block out other's thoughts, but soon, that device had worn out and Mike had gone crazy trying to look for a way to fix it.

It was an MP3 player that was left uselessly on the table, with a pair of ear buds coiled around it, and it had served as Mike's device - given by Hecate - to assuage the agitation of outside thoughts. Two years ago, it had been very helpful to him, but lately it's been going a bit haywire for the past few months.

Now, it was broken.

Ever since, Mike would always stay in the cabin to escape from the wandering thoughts at Camp Half-Blood, or just in New York in general.

"I can read what you're thinking," Mike said. "But it gets confusing because of the thoughts of other people. And _how _can you think of so many moves? I've already thought of one and I saw that you'd already had twelve moves up your sleeve!"

"Cheating again?" Shem asked, smirking. "Obviously. I've studied this game for quite a while, Mike."

"_Obviously. Obviously,_" Mike said, imitating Shem's voice. A thin smile appeared on Shem's face as Mike laughed. "_Obviously I'd currently and accurately calculated the precision of how the discombobulated perambulating Necker cube from the Hephaestus Cabin -" _

The two of them were laughing as someone knockedd on the door, and Mike called out for that person to come in. Ira came in through the door.

"Hi." Ira said.

"Oh, hey!" Mike greeted warmly when the two boys looked up from their game. Shem saw her and felt a slight feeling vexation. "'Sup?"

"You're supposed to be back in the infirmary," Shem said curtly. He looked at her, and surprisingly, she didn't look tired anymore. Her blue eyes gleamed back at him.

"I can take it," Ira said as she walked through the door. Ira still wore the same clothing as well, and that day it had been later in the afternoon ever since Ira and Shem had solved the code. Ira looked at Mike shyly as she sat next to Shem. "I'm Ira, daughter of Hermes."

"Mike Park, son of Hecate" Mike said, his bright hazel colored eyes shining back at her. "Nice to meet you!"

Shem sighed. He was starting to feel as though this girl was getting a bit too clingy towards him.

_Whatever, _Shem thought. _Only a matter of time, plus I was one of the first to be seen upon her arrival. The common theory of trust. _

Shem and Mike continued to play chess, and Ira watched as Shem quickly eradicated Mike's side of the board piece by piece.

"Di immortales," Mike muttered under his breath as he rubbed his temples. Shem took Mike's last rook from the board. "My mind's getting out of control, Holmes. _Literally_."

"What do you mean?" Ira butted in, a peculiar look crossing her face. Shem was a bit impressed that Ira had caught Mike's statement.

"At this moment, you are questioning the powers of the mind reader sitting in front of you," Shem said, yawning. Ira stared at Mike.

"Yes, I can," Mike said quickly. Ira's mouth popped open. "Yeah, coffee."

"Wow," Ira said in awe. Shem blinked.

"Oh, she asked if it really was possible for me to do that, and then she asked what the flavor of her ambrosia would be when she thought of it." Mike said dismissively before Shem could ask what had just happened.

"Curiouser and curiouser," Shem replied, smiling.

The two boys continued to play as Ira stared at the interior of the cabin. Glowing runes were written on the stone walls. Some of the runes even started to peel themselves off the walls and ceiling, and floated across the room.

There were not many mist forms at the moment, except for the bunny.

Around the floor there were various items scattered around, such as a top hat with a rabbit made of mist hopping around and a pile of withered flowers, or some unknown devices like a brass colored object that looked like an old fashioned compass or a few rotating metal instruments. Some of the beds even _levitated _off the ground, and a few constellations dotted the ceiling.

"You keep using that horse piece," Ira said to Shem after a few minutes of looking at the cabin's interior, as Shem took his knight to gobble up another pawn.

"The knight usually causes havoc in one place while allowing another party to take another chance at attacking the opponent," Shem said after Mike helplessly moved his bishop forward. Shem then pushed his rook forward. "Then, after all the pieces are in place . . . Oh. Check mate, Mike."

"Again!" Mike groaned. "Just why, Shem. I read your every move, and yet you're still able to beat _me_.A _mind reader._"

"In time," Shem said, smiling. He looked at Ira with a smirk on his face. Now that the period of time had gone long enough without being questioned, it was time. "So what's the real reason why you're out of the infirmary, Ira?"

Ira looked at him, and Shem knew that she wouldn't be able to hide it anymore. It'd be too annoying for her to keep it so secretive, especially if Shem was around.

"I know you're going to find Lynx," Ira said. Mike looked at the two of them, and the mist bunny hopping around the room had flopped itself onto his lap. The cloud bunny buried its cuddly white form into Mike's chest. Shem didn't show any expression, waiting for Ira to continue. "So I've decided that I wanted to come with you."

"No." Shem said firmly. Ira glared at him.

"I've lost all my memories!" Ira exclaimed.

"You'll remember them in time."

"But I think I'll be able to find them faster if I visit him as well!" Ira insisted. "Please let me come with you. I have to find out why I'm like this."

"Yo guys," Mike said, patting the bunny on the head. "We have a bunny in the room, don't wanna make it explode, you know?"

Before anyone of them could ask any questions, Shem had shaken his head and puffed out in frustration. This was so hard.

_She cannot come, _Shem thought to himself. _Whatever happens. It is something that I must do by myself. _

Shem looked away from her, and realized that Mike's eyes were narrowed toward Ira. He was looking at her with a strange expression, as though feeling slightly cautious. Then, he suddenly shook his head, and muttered something inaudible under his breath. Ira hadn't noticed what Mike had just done.

"Why don't you leave," Shem said. "Before your condition gets worse."

Ira sighed, and finally decided to stand up. She gave Shem a glare for the first time, and let out a puff of annoyance. Reluctantly, she walked to the door.

For once, Shem thought he'd almost felt bad.

Ira turned around quickly one last time with the door open.

"When are you leaving?" Ira asked. "You won't be able to get anywhere without my help. I _know _Lynx."

"You want to leave," Shem said. "Yet Chiron _barely _knows your name, nor does he know your godly parent or where you came from."

"Does that really-"

"Hey. Seriously guys, what's going on?" Mike interrupted the both of them. Shem noticed the look of slight anger on Ira's face. Suddenly, the bunny in Mike's arms disappeared with a loud _pop! _and a mini _poof!_ "Aw, come on! You just _had _to do that, _didn't you _Snuffles?"

"If you really want to come," Shem said, feeling aggravated. "Then go rest, or else you'll never have a chance of leaving this place at all."

"_Fine._" Ira puffed out. With that, Ira stormed out of the cabin in disappointment.

Shem twisted in his chair toward Mike.

_Mission, _Shem thought to himself. He _knew_ she would come to see him. But she didn't know that she would have to see Mike, a mind reader who could see through her _easily._ _Mission completed. _

"Well, a mind reader doesn't need to read you to see that you're a bit annoyed, Shem," Mike said. "You've never been _that _strict before. You even made Snuffles explode."

"She needed rest," Shem said, but felt a tiny hint of guilt tugging at the back of his mind. Shem pushed the thought away when he saw a sleepy look appear in Mike's eyes. "What are you feeling? Did you see anything in her?"

"Wh-"

"Did you read anything?" Shem asked. "I observed your reactions toward Ira, Mike. You must've felt something."

"_Wait a minute,_" Mike exclaimed as Shem disintegrated the thin wall between his mind and Mike's thoughts. Even though Mike was a mind reader, he was still a young one, and sometimes a few thoughts could be blocked from him if you carefully secreted it from his grasp. "You're telling me that you just planned that whole thing."

Shem took out the calabaster pipe from his pocket, and stuck it in his mouth with a _click. _In a moment or two, green smoke started to puff out from the chamber.

"It was only to gather necessary information on the suspect," Shem muttered to himself. "But yes, I did plan it."

Mike stared at Shem, then plopped down onto his pillow and faced the ceiling.

"_Wicked,_" Mike breathed in amazement. "Really mean, but pretty wicked all the same, dude."

Mike stared at the ceiling, and Shem heard him sigh, as though he was deep in thought. Mike seemed to look very distracted.

"Your thoughts?" Shem asked.

"It's so confusing that it's almost frustrating, Holmes," Mike murmured. Shem stared at him in slight disbelief. He didn't see _much?_ "She tells the truth."

"A blank slate?" Shem inquired insistently. "She really has no memories?"

Mike nodded. Shem saw Mike yawn as Mike's eyelids started to droop.

"I feel like there was supposed to be more to it, but that was all she knew," Mike said lazily. "Her voice was so certain too, Shem. Her name is Ira Vagler. She's sixteen years old, and the daughter of Hermes. She's an orphan, and she ran away from the orphanage."

Shem felt his blood turn ice cold. _The way he said it . . . _Shem's mind flashed back from the day before.

"_How old are you?" Shem had asked. _

"_I'm sixteen," Ira had said. Ira had squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, but when they opened, there was a stronger feeling of dejection in them. "But that's all I know. My name is Ira Vagler. I'm sixteen years old, and the daughter of Hermes. I'm an orphan, and I ran away from the orphanage." _

_She had a drop of honesty spoken in every word. Shem believed everything that she had said so strongly that it seemed impossible that she would fabricate such a lie. _

Shem looked at Mike.

"Say that again," Shem said. "Tell me, Mike."

"Her name is Ira Vagler," Mike said with a strange look in his eyes. Nevertheless, he decided to comply with Shem. "She's sixteen years old, and the daughter of Hermes. She's an orphan, and she ran away from the orphanage."

"Hm." Shem said quietly to himself.

_Exact same words, _Shem thought quietly to himself. _Exact same order. _

Mike yawned again and shook his head vigorously.

"Gods, Holmes," Mike said groggily. "I think something's gotten into me for some reason. I've never felt so sleepy before."

"Sleep is very crucial to your health," Shem said quietly as he stood up from his seat. He thanked Mike for the game of chess, but said his thanks absentmindedly, since his mind was _also _starting to wander in a different direction. "You go rest. Thank you for helping."

Mike nodded, yawning and laying in bed as Shem walked out the door.

"No . . . No problem, Holmes."

The day was fading quickly, but Shem was already thinking of the morning to come. The events that had happened today: Raymond Stone cracking the locket, solving the code, attacking the monster, and Mike's assumptions of Ira. Everything was done and set in place. All that was needed was to set the plan into motion.

And what a _brilliant _plan it was.

**[xxx]**

It was dawn.

The sun was just barely peeking its rays of light through the clouds, and a shell of pink and gold blanketed the sky of Camp Half Blood. During dawn nothing breathes, and it is an hour of silence, between all creatures and forms of nature. The small droplets of dew were starting to form on every blade of grass. It was a time of calm, deep, sleep, and Sleep was present in every cabin throughout the whole Camp.

Sleep was present in everyone. All except one of the very few.

Shem felt the thin black cane at his side, and the deerstalker cap on his head. A small pack was slung around his waist, given by Hermes himself from a long time ago. His dark black coat made no sound as he walked passed each Cabin toward the towering barn ahead. A single light was flickering in only one window of the Big House, and Shem knew that he had to tell Chiron.

In his inside of his coat he could feel the two books, the one written by Aristotle and the field notes of Nicholas Baker, buried deep in his pocket.

He walked passed the Apollo Cabin, and saw the blurred image of a grand piano through a frosty window. It was quiet, but Shem felt as though the keys of the piano longed for someone to play on them. Allen Stradwood was not the only piano player here, but he was certainly one of Camp Half Blood's best. Ever since he'd left about a week ago on a quest, not many people have been playing on it.

Shem felt a single melody reach his mind. His mind flickered as he walked, but his eyes were still gazing at the piano through the window . . .

"_Papa, have you ever wanted to play the piano?" Miro asked. The cream colored room they were in had grown brighter now that the sunlight was streaming through. Miro closed Baker's old notes on his studies of physics. The man looked up at the sound of the boy's question. Nicholas Baker's brown hair was combed neatly on his head, and his gray eyes looked up quizzically. The man was wearing a light suit, and was about to go to work._

_Nicholas Baker looked at Miro. They were not as poor as the homeless, but they didn't enough money to afford a grand piano. _

"_I've always wanted to," Baker said, smiling. Their mother was no longer with them anymore, but if she could see the eldest child that she had given Mr. Baker, she probably would've been just as proud. This child was so perfect and intelligent. So talented. "Would you want to?"_

_Miro nodded._

Shem walked passed the piano, and the melody in his mind faded away to a soft whisper. He looked around, but no one was playing. The air was cold, damp, and moist on his skin. The memory was coming back to him. It was a memory of him as little boy. Just before . . . Just before that incident.

_Shem toddled into the room, and Baker greeted the little boy. The little toddler's feet patted over until he was close enough to hold up a scribbled picture. Shem was his son as well, but the two brothers looked hardly the same. Shem's light brown hair stuck out in odd angles while Miro's black hair sat nicely combed. A digital camera was slung around his neck and hanging their limply on his chest, while the boy's hands raised his piece of art higher into the air._

_Did that camera even have any battery?_

_Miro was constantly praised by his teachers and friends. Their personalities would never line up, either. Baker looked down, seeing the roughly sketched horse in brown. He ruffled his son's hair. Shem didn't understand the same things Miro did. _

_Baker looked over at Miro, who had answered the door to his best friend._

"_Look, Papa!" Shem squeaked again, bringing Baker's attention away from the older boy. Baker looked down. Had he not been paying attention?_

"_Okay, son," He said. He ruffled Shem's hair one more time. He didn't catch the look of disappointment on his child's face. Baker walked once more toward Miro._

My number one student, _Baker thought. _He will succeed in life. Miro was the best in his grade, and even better than those above him.

_Baker was proud. Miro was everything to the family. _

_Baker's hope. His pride._

Shem felt his heart flutter slightly as the memory slid over that last bit. He was walking closer towards the Big House now, the row of cabins far behind him.

_Miro looked back toward Baker as his best friend, Austin, stepped into the room. The boy with the dark cap looked similar to Miro, and it was a wonder that they were not brothers in the first place. Austin was a charming young lad as well._

"_Papa, we're going over to the music studio to check out all the instruments, okay?" Miro said. Baker smiled._

"_We won't be long," Austin said, smiling. "We can hardly play anything."_

_Seeing the two of them standing side by side made Baker wish as though Austin was his son as well. The two of them could be brothers. They had the same black hair, neatly kempt. Their gray eyes gleamed keenly back at the man standing at the doorway._

"_Sure, my boys." Baker called out. They were two gifted children._

Shem smiled bitterly. It'd always been that way.

He took note of the calm scenery that was cast over the silent Camp. It was good to leave with this lasting image.

_[xxx]_

_Shem stared at the picture of his knight as his father walked away. _

_It couldn't be that bad, could it? His dad walked out to see the other two boys off. Shem let the picture hang limply by his side as he stared back down at the ground. The horse wilted along with the wrinkle of paper now clasped in his little fingers. Soon, it would have to be forgotten just like all the other drawings in Shem's room._

_Papa didn't understand . . ._

"_Wait!" A voice said, not far away from him. "I've forgotten my keys."_

_Miro? Miro never forgot anything. _

_Shem looked up as he saw Miro walked into the same room. His gray eyes sparkled as he engulfed Shem into a big hug. _

_Shem felt shocked by the sudden touch of affection. His father rarely ever did this to any of his sons. But his brother was there. His brother was there for Shem. Miro ruffled his hair._

"_You'll play with me, right?" Shem said excitedly. "Later today?"_

"_Okay, Shem," Miro said teasingly as he ruffled his hair. Shem saw his keys jangling around his waist. He never did forget it. Miro's hand closed around Shem's drawing as Miro held the paper up. "It's a beautiful piece of artwork, ol' Chap."_

"_Papa never said that," Shem said, the hurt apparent in his voice. Miro looked down and picked Shem up._

"_Who cares," Miro said, a daring smile on his face. "I like it."_

_Shem grinned back as Miro put him back down._

"_Play with me, okay?"_

"_Sure thing, Chap," Miro said, grinning as he sprinted back out the room as soon as he heard Austin hollering out his name. Shem walked out across the hallway into his own room, catching a glimpse of the two boys and his father walking toward the kitchen._

"_Where were your keys?" Shem heard Austin ask._

"_Oh, they were just in my dad's room."_

Shem opened the door to the Big House. That was Miro Baker. The only brother he'd only known. And the only important piece whom Shem could've comfortably called family.

"Why, good morning, Shem," said Chiron, his husky voice causing Shem to glance at the staircase at the opposite end of the room.

**[xxx]**

Chiron stood there, surprised that someone was coming into the Big House so early in the morning. Chiron remembered that only Elli would come this early.

_Where is she now? _Chiron wondered, frowning slightly to himself. He looked as a figure stepped into the room.

The Recreation Room was quite big. On one end of the room were a few couches and chairs, and near the middle of the room was a Ping-Pong table with a set of chairs clustered around it. This was the place where all the meetings would be held among the Cabins in Camp Half-Blood to discuss any significant issues.

Shem walked through the door and nodded as the centaur smiled warmly back. Chiron's scratchy beard and thinning facial hair never hid the welcoming expression on his face. To every camper here, Chiron remembered to show compassion and care for all of them.

Today, Chiron had decided not to place himself in his wheelchair, revealing his majestic white stallion form from waist down and making him a few feet taller than the average man.

Chiron had known Shem since he was a young boy. He looked at Shem from top to bottom, and realized how much he'd grown since the past ten years. He'd grown up into a fine young man. Chiron knew that Shem's intellect had exceeded many, and had probably even surpassed Annabeth's.

Shem was probably the youngest one child who had stayed summer after summer in Camp Half-Blood until Elli had arrived five years later. Unlike Elli, Shem was more quiet and reserved, and because of that, Chiron had preserved the privacy between the two of them for Shem's own sake. As for Elli, she'd become like a daughter to Chiron, and nowadays Chiron had been worrying quite extensively due to her absence. To him, Elli had reminded him of the days when he'd take care of the young Annabeth Chase. Losing Elli would be all the more too painful.

"I knew you'd be here," Shem said. Chiron's expression seemed to change slightly as he took notice of the pack by Shem's waist.

_Is he going somewhere? _Chiron thought.

"I have an errand to complete."

Slowly, the wrinkles on the centaur's face, which had been formed by years of smiling, soon transformed to wrinkles of worry and concern.

"Where are you going?" Chiron asked.

"I honestly do not know," Shem said. After ten years of knowing each other, Chiron had understood immediately that Shem wasn't lying.

"Is there a reason for your errand?" Chiron asked again, this time slowly. A long pause had taken over. The Rec Room suddenly seemed bigger than it usually did, and the silence took its time to fill it up.

Shem was always _so_ _reserved_. He never told Chiron _anything _about himself. And Chiron never asked. He didn't want to invade anything that Shem might hold dearly.

"I cannot say," Shem said, breaking the silence. A sigh escaped from Chiron's throat. "Please understand."

"You know that when you leave," Chiron said. "That becomes one less person to protect Camp Half-Blood while Elli and Allen are gone."

Chiron wanted to convince Shem not to go. However, Chiron saw the gleam in Shem's gray eyes. They didn't usually shine like that all the time, but today, Shem's eyes were filled with determination. The stormy gray collided with a burst of lightning flashing in them.

It was probably futile to try to convince him anyway.

"How are they?" Shem asked suddenly. Chiron looked up, and his heart was filled with even more worry. "By the way, as inconvenient and inefficient as it is, I'll be coming back here again in a few minutes after I visit Petra for something I need."

"They rarely keep in contact," Chiron said sadly, answering his previous question. "But I believe they might've already found the heir, and if not are searching for the child."

"They'll be okay," Shem said, nodding. Chiron agreed silently. "The two of them are exceptional demigods."

_I worry about you, Shem_, Chiron thought silently to himself. _You have a bright mind. But your maturity . . . Have you reached your highest potential yet? Is that something to be afraid of?_

"Are you sure you really don't want to talk?" Chiron asked one more time. "I feel as though you're hiding something. We could play a game of pinochle."

"I'm sorry, but I've only come here for your consent, Chiron," Shem said quietly. Shem walked toward Chiron, and Chiron could see the beaded necklace around Shem's neck. Ten beads. One of the most Chiron had ever seen during this generation. Shem held out his hand. "Thank you. For all the years you've helped me prepare."

_Prepare for what? _Chiron thought hopelessly. It was as if Shem was saying his last farewell, although Chiron _knew _he would come back. This was Shem Baker.

Chiron shook Shem's hand, and put his other arm on Shem's shoulder. Chiron sighed inwardly.

"Thank you as well," Chiron said. The great Sherlock Holmes and his mind were all embedded into this one child. Shem didn't understand what a big deal _that _was, but Chiron knew that he would be one of the best demigods of his age even without the help of a special ability. The things that Shem had taught Chiron over the years as well . . . well, they were something that would never be forgotten.

_I don't know what you're up to this time, Holmes, _Chiron thought. _But may the gods help you in your travels._


End file.
